Mind Magic
by boggart returns
Summary: Pre HBP. Slightly dark. I'm the same Boggart from Mugglenet Fanfiction The Battle of DoM changed Harry more than he realized. His powers are increasing, but how long can he last, faced with the temptation to abuse it? This is a story about power, insanity
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One **

**The Beginning **

**A/N: This story used to be in MNFF. For various reasons I stopped writing it. I feel really guilty reading all those emails my readers sent me, so now I'm bringing in out again. If you used read it in MNFF, please leave a word, so that I know I'm actually redeeming myself in your eyes. I made some corrections, starting in Chapter Two. **

**Oh, and I know that you know that I know that I don't own Harry Potter. I'm saying this only once, because I don't see the point of repeating it. No one's stupid enough to claim Harry Potter theirs. **

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The faint blue candle flames shivered; they made the endless stone tiles look like dusty glass, they hung dim shadows in the distances of thecorridors and floors.

Silence crawled along the long halls, chasing a noise. Harry's shoes clacked and scuffed on the stone tiles, drawing echoes from the walls and doorways. Silence pursued him like death, sliding past the flickering candles, gliding along the empty corridors. Endless darkness stretched out before him, peered at him and swallowed him.

He ran on.

It was getting distinctly colder. The chill made his teeth clatter, made his eyes water. The chill seemed to suck out every bit of warmth from his veins. He was not cold outside. He was frozen inside.

Then abruptly, he stopped.

He faced the same black door, gazing at it, almost feared what he would find on the other side. Darkness swirled around him… silence pressed him… Harry held out a trembling hand, and suddenly the door swung open…

Sirius's body curved in a graceful arc, his face was marked with a look of mingled fear and surprise. He sank through the ragged veil hanging from the arch, his mouth forming a silent O...

The dream changed.

"Kill me now, Dumbledore…" "If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…" 

The callous red eyes transformed to lifeless, sunken black ones; the deathly pale face became even paler…

"Why did you kill me harry?" Sirius whispered. "Why did you kill me?"

"Why…"

"Sirius!" 

Harry lay flat on his back, panting heavily as though he had been running. He had awoken from yet again the same dream that haunted him ever since he returned to Private Drive. His hand instinctively reached up to touch the old scar on his forehead, tracing the lightening shape with a trembling finger. The scar felt normal, cool and rugged as always, he hasn't even experienced a slight prickle during the past 4 weeks.

He sat up, a hand, still trembling, reached out in the darkness for his glasses on the bedside table. He put on his glasses and the blur before his eyes disappeared. The bedroom was impossibly pitch-black, impossible to make out any shape. He sat quietly on the bed, waiting for his eyes to adapt to the dark. The lamp was broken since the end of last summer, and evidently uncle Vernon didn't have the decency to fix it for him.

But Harry preferred the dark. Naked light was exposing, and he couldn't stand it. Bright light made him remember, when all he wanted to do is to forget the events of the past 2 months.

He ran his fingers through his hair. His hair seemed to have a will of its own. For the past 5 years it absolutely refused to grow, but now it had reached shoulder length, yet as messy as usual. He scrambled out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. After soaking his face with water, he peered into the mirror. A skinny boy stared back, eyes swollen and bloodshot under his untidy, wet hair. The face has changed a lot since last year. A screen of tiny hair clung to his chin, as if he hasn't washed his face for a week. The face, while more angular, was pale and devoid of emotions. His usually bright green eyes looked dull, even lifeless, as if now a layer of ice blocked his emotions, shielding him from the rest of the world. The dream tonight, however, shattered his protections completely, and all the pain and guilt was poured back into him.

"…Don't you think you've got a bit of a – a – saving-people-thing?" Hermione's voice rang.

"He has a great weakness for heroics…" Lucius Malfoy's voice echoed in his head.

The dull green eyes suddenly burned with fiery fire.

_The five of us could have died because I decided to play hero. Tonks lived in St.Mungo's for two weeks because I decided to play hero. Sirius died because I decided to play hero. Sirius died… _

_All my fault…_

The sink began to tremble in silent fury.

All my fault… 

Suddenly, as soon as it came, the anger vanished. The hatred in the air changed to sadness. Harry sighed and turned.

Sirius's death was the beginning of a new stage of life for him. No matter what Dumbledore said, he can never let go of the guilt. He didn't want to brood, but thinking of the life he could have had, he couldn't help it.

The Dursleys peered fearfully from their room. All three of them let out an inward sigh when the red aura from the bathroom subsided. Then, unexpectedly, they heard a muffled sob.

It was hot.

But it wasn't kind that reminds you of Mediterranean beaches and icy drinks with blood red cherries floating in them, or hot girls wearing bikinis wondering around among the sunbathers. It was nothing close to that.

The heat, like a huge damp slimy dirty stinking piece of rag, shrouded Little Whinging and stated there for weeks. A drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive, which now felt like a giant greasy oven. Lawns that were usually emerald green now lay wilted, yellowed in decay. It was an unusually hot summer, hot enough even to drive away the usually penny-pinching inhabitants of Privet Drive to pack away and spend their summer elsewhere. It was even more unusual that the only family left was that of Harry Potter, the bloody-boy-who-lived.

Sunday morning, the only place that showed some signs of life was number four. And these signs were subdued. Vernon Dursley, Harry's uncle, grunted.

"Where is that boy?"

"I don't know," said Aunt Petunia, who winced at the mention Harry. "Not in the house, hopefully."

Uncle Vernon stretched what passed for a neck out of the living room window and peered down into the flowerbed below.

"Nope, not here either." Said Uncle Vernon, evidently relieved as he focused his attention back to the morning news.

Harry, at this particular moment, was sitting in the park near Magnolia Road, wearing his invisibility cloak. He watched absently as a girl walked past, her light skirt fluttering to the rhythm of her stride showing bits of tanned skin inches above her knee. She was sweating a lot, Harry noted with interest, and she didn't seem to be wearing anything underneath that tight top.

The Dursleys had for most of the time refused to acknowledge his existence. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't force him to do anything or shout at him – in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Dudley wouldn't stay in the same room, while all three Dursleys avoided looking at him. This suited Harry fine, although (he would never admit) he did feel sorry for them – it was their house after all.

He stayed away from the house for as often as he can. When he was in the house he kept to his room, spent time staring out of the windows when he is not daydreaming about a normal life. Even his owl Hedwig seemed to be aware of his sullen mood.

Magnolia Park soon became his favorite spot. It was quiet and often empty, and as usual, he was sitting in a solitary bench watching a stationary swing.

"That's where the dementors attacked Dudley and I," Harry thought randomly as his gaze shifted to Magnolia road.

"And that's where I first saw Sirius in his dog form…" His throat suddenly felt tight, his eyes stung.

"Don't think about Sirius!" He ordered himself. "Think of something else, your friends… Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny…"

"Friends?" A voice inside his head interrupted. "Friends you almost killed for playing the hero?"

"Cut it!" Harry thought furiously as guilt swelled in his heart once more. True, the guilt of causing Sirius's death could never disappear. But he wasn't going to succumb to his own guilt, at least not with the burden of the prophecy on his shoulders.

Sighing inwardly, he glanced at his watch: it read 11:00 AM. The Dursleys should be up by now.

Eager for some breakfast, Harry stood up and left.

When Harry returned to his bedroom, to his surprise, he found two owls waiting for him.

Hedwig was back. She was sitting in her cage, staring at Harry with an almost pitying expression. The other was a beautiful brown owl and as soon as Harry entered the room, he dropped a letter on his head and soared out, hooting pompously much to Hedwig's distaste. Frowning, Harry bent down and picked it up. As soon as he pulled out the envelope, his heart began pounding some where in his throat.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I have just received your OWL result. I am sure you are very eager to know how well you have performed. As your Head of House I shall retain the official transcripts in your file until September. _

_Charms: Theory – O; Practical – O_

_Transfiguration: Theory – E; Practical O_

_Potions: Theory – O; Practical – O_

_Defense Against the Dark Arts: Theory – O; Practical – O_

_Herbology: Theory – E; Practical: E_

_Care of Magical Creatures: - Theory – O; Practical – O_

_Devination: Theory – D; Practical – P_

_Astronomy: Theory – A; Practical – P_

_History of Margic: Theory (only) – U (Ungraded)_

_The pass grade of OWL is A, you have achieved 7 OWLS._

_Note that O has not been awarded to anyone in more than 50 years. The last person to receive it was Tom Riddle. _

_Mr. Potter, I am pleased with your results. I have always believed in your talents, now you have the grades too. With your exceptional achievement in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you're one step closer to becoming an Auror._

_Congratulations. _

Sincerely, Professor McGonagall 

"Seven OWLs!" Harry exclaimed. "I got seven! Sirius would have been proud…"

Harry's mood sobered again. He collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling gloomily. It was then he felt something pressing his back - another letter.

Scanning it, he saw that it was a note from Remus.

Harry,

We haven't heard from you for three days, how are you? Are the Dursleys treating you all right? Ron and Hermione arrived yesterday at you-know-where and they've been dying to know how you are. Evidently Dumbledore told them not to send you letters, he thought that you might need some time alone. Ron and Hermione got their OWL results. Ron wouldn't show me his, while Hermione got 15. 15 OWLS! How did you do?

Got to go now, duty calls.

Write back soon or we will send someone along.

Remus

PS. HARRY THIS TIME PLEASE WRITE **MORE** THAN **TWO** WORDS!

Harry smiled faintly – trust Hermione to get less then 15 OWLs. He hadn't been very communicative lately. His last 10 letters consisted of only two words: I'm fine. Somehow he doesn't know what to say to his friends anymore, partly because of guilt, and partly because of the prophecy.

Knowing the prophecy hasn't helped much, but at least it gave him a sense of purpose. Now he understood why Dumbledore tried to protect him as if he was the last hope of mankind. He didn't want to become an I'm-here-to-save-the-world figure, he doesn't want the responsibility, most important of all, he didn't want to be a murderer. But he has no choice. He didn't want to let down those who died for him – mum, dad, Sirius.

"And then there is Dumbledore," Harry thought darkly. "I always saw him as a grandfather I never had. I trusted him with my life even. But what was I to him? A talisman against Voldemort? When I've served my use, then what? It's been five years now. First year, I almost killed myself trying to save the Philosopher's stone; second year I got bitten by a basilisk; third year I was nearly kissed by a dementor; forth year I went through the maze to watch Cedric die. And then, just over two month ago… "

He let out a cry of anguish and desperation.

"I'm too tired. Why does it have to be me? I only want to be _Harry_, not some bloody Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived. I only want to taste normal life for once. Why does it have to be me?"

"Because it's your destiny…" a small voice muttered in his head.

"THAT DESTINY CAN GO TO HELL." Harry screamed to himself.

"Hmm," the voice in his head muttered. "In that case, pack your invisibility and go. Leave the wizarding world. Let Voldemort do what he wants. Why should we care?"

At this point, he jerked up and kicked open his trunk. He rummaged its contents and pulled out a silver cloak. But holding the silk-like material in his hand, harry strangely calmed down. As bitterly angry as he was, Harry knew he couldn't just leave all his friends behind, leave his life behind. He picked up a battered photo-album.

"Mum, dad, why didn't he just kill me? Why didn't he kill us as a family?" He was crying freely now. "Mum… it's so hard… I'm so tired. I can't go on like this anymore. Mum, can you help me?"

Lily Potter just smiled and waved at him in her photo.

Suddenly, Harry's face closed up. He looked longingly at his mother's photo and closed the album in a deep sigh. Picking up a quill, he wrote "I'm Fine, congratulate Hermione for me, got 7 OWLs " on a piece of parchment. Tying the note onto Hedwig's leg silently, Harry turned and stared into the darkening sky.

Not feeling hungry, Harry went out for another walk in the park after sunset. His aunt and uncle merely grunted and said " we'll leave some food in the fridge", then turned their attention to their dinner.

Harry sighed again. Without the Order's warning, he would never have gotten this kind of freedom by himself.

He vaulted over the locked park gate and set off across the parched grass. The park was as empty as daytime. He sunk into his usual bench, hugged his knees to his chest and stared moodily at the ground. All the fury and desperation has left him, leaving only emptiness behind. He let his memories wander, searching for happy thoughts. There weren't many… knowing his magical identity for the first time, flying for the first time, winning the house cup, winning the Quidditch cup, defeating the Hungarian Horntail, Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, dueling club… only so few, but enough to make a smile appeared on his lips. May be it wasn't so bad to be Harry Potter after all.

The voice in his head snickered again. "I told you!" it gloated. Harry shook his head in alarm. This had been happening too much lately. He had talked to himself before, but never talked back. It wasn't normal; in fact, he almost thought he was going crazy. Nonetheless, the voice was comforting. It was the only thing that understood his feelings at the moment, and only so was his solitude more bearab… His musings was cut of.

Some thing had moved.

Before Harry could react, a slender figure stepped out from the shadows to face him.

"Harry Potter…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Silvia**

**A/N: **Aww... no reviews... I'm not the kind to beg for reviews, but having a few won't hurt! I think I speak for every writer when I say, your support is my strength. Even flames are better than nothing. Feel free to roast me if you want. Anyway. I didn't read this story when I wrote it. This time I forced myself to go over some stuff realized how many mistakes there was. Please forgive me.

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"Harry Potter."

A stranger stepped out of the shadows, a tall, lean figure, taller than Harry, with long, straight hair reaching down her waist, swaying about the face and neck and shoulders. She wore aoversized baggy sweater that hang emptily to the knees, beneath them were old jeans with knees torn almost to shreds and battered trainers that made no sound at all on the ground.

The strange womanglided straight towards Harry and stopped before him, and then there was no more movement from her. She had a serious face as she studied him, but it was a sweet seriousness, with out a trace of severity. The large black eyes betrayed no emotions andshowed no explanations to why she was here. Her mouth was drawn into a line, though not out of anger. Her oriental face was marked by a pale emptiness, like a perfectly shaped ice sculpture glowing in moonlight.

Harry gulped. The woman before him was beautiful, although beauty to him was embarrassingly disconcerting, largely due to the complete fiasco with Cho Chang last year. He waited a moment for the stranger to speak, but finally lost his patience.

"Well?" he enquired with a frown, keeping his voice as bland as he could. "Who are you? How did you know my name?"

"The question is not who am I." The coldness about hermelted slightly as she responded, her eyesglinting."As for how do I know your name, in case you haven't noticed, your face can be recognized byalmost ever sane wizard on earth. Yes, that legendary scar of yours..."

She didn't move, but Harry felt a warm breezeover his face, exposing his scar.

"My name is Silvia. I am a friend of Professor Dumbledore, so you can put that to one side." She added with a smile, her eyes glancing at his hand.

Harry's hand froze instantly. A second agoit was drifting almost casually towards his wand pocket -a trick he picked up from the Auror that tried to arrest Dumbledore last year. The stranger's observation surprised him. For a moment, he was at a loss of what to do. His hand slumped silently to his side.

"A piece of advice, Harry," Silvia frowned, still gazing at him with an unnerving stillness."Never be intimidated by your opponent's movements and words, that would be the same as giving up before starting the battle. Honestly, I was expecting better from you."

He looked back at her blankly.

"And I thought I already said," she added, seeing his confusion. "I'm a friend of Professor Dumbledore. If it's any consolation to you, I was a friend of your mum. In fact, she was my best friend when I was in Hogwarts."

"You know my mum?" Harry blurted out, his distrust finally forgotten.

"Yes, you mum was the only Gryffindor girl who accepted a Slytherin best friend."

"You were a Slytherin!" Harry shouted before he can control himself, and blushed. "Sorry, didn't mean to shout."

"You mean you didn't mean to be rude. Honestly Harry, does being a Slytherin make me bad?" Silvia frowned again. "And why are you talking to me as if I'm your old mate? What makes you believe that I'm not a Death Eater?"

"I, er...­ I­ don't know,"he admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I suppose I was distracted."

Silvia sighed in a resigned way as she sat down next to him.

"You remind me a lot of your dad, youboth havea blind hate towards Slytherins and blind trustfor others. Here, look at this."

She took a medallion from her pocket. It was shaped like a phoenix, with engraving on it that read: OOTP.

"I supposed you know what it means, don't you? I'm with the birdclub.Every phoenixer has one. I didn't wanttojoin it, it's way too dramatic for me, butProfessor Dumbledore is my boss, so..."she shrugged,studying the medallion closely. "Hecharmed them so that only 'those who can be trusted' can see them. Evidently you can be trusted, " Silvia said with a smile, the coldness leaving her face completely.

Harry was apparently too dumbstruck to respond. For a month he had been self-segregating from the wizarding world, now a strange Asian woman suddenly showed up claiming to be a member of the order of the phoenix, and his mother's best friend. It wasa little hard to take in after a month of numbness.

"How do I know you are from the order?"He was still suspicious. How come Dumbledore hadn't told him about the woman?

Silvia made a noise that was between a laugh and a snort.

"I see the lesson on caution has been learnt well, although a little too late. But you know, I could kill you right now if I want to." Her voice dropped to a lazy whisper. "And by that, I mean _NOW_!"

She waved her hand in a fluidmotion andHarry'swand soared from his pocket into her waiting palm. Silvia stood gazing at him, her black eyes hard and cold like steel, blazing with power. Harry, on the other hand, simply stared at her outburst, too shocked to do anything.

Suddenly, her eyes softened, her hard gazed turned into a doting look as she ruffled Harry's hair.

"Jeez Harry, what's your mouth doing, waiting to catch some flies?" She taunted.

Harry blushed and snapped his jaw shut. By now he's feeling utterly confused, but he was also sure that the woman before him means no harm.

"You said you knew my mum," he mumbled, breaking the silence.

"That's right. I was in Hogwarts but I left in my sixth year. "Her expression is a distant one, marked with a slight sadness. "Your mum was the only friend I had. The Slytherins didn't like me because I'm Chinese; the others didn't like me because I was a Slytherin, so your mum was practically my only friend. It was so hard to leave her.

"Why?" asked Harry, watching the distressed woman before him. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I was recruited by Voldemort."

"Your were WHAT?" Harry stuttered.

"Yes. So was your mum. Why do you think Voldemort was after your parents? Lily and I were the Charm Mistresses at school. Our knowledge of charms put together was probably no much less than Voldemort himself. He needed the elite and I must say we were much smarter than those junk he's got for Death Eaters." Silvia looked as if she was thoroughly enjoying this now. "We were always working as a team, you mum and I. I was good at the so-called' dark arts, while your mum was better at the goody-goody stuff. I suppose Voldemort needed someone to invent spells, charm objects for him since he was such an arrogant lazy ass. But neither of us ever dreamed of joining him."

Her voice sobered a little. She stared at the ground, lost in memory. After a little while, she shook herself.

"It was the end of our sixth year when we received the letter. We didn't need to decide until we finish school, it said. We had a year to think about it, which was really generous of him considering even the very best wizards only had a week. Professor Dumbledore thought that it was best for us to remain in Hogwarts, but my parents decided to take me back to China. So we left secretly, leaving everything behind. I still contacted Lily regularly though, and when you were born she sent me photos. I still can't believe she married that big headed idiot James Potter, Sirius Black was a much more attractive character, and great in bed!" She smiled at Harry, who was bristling with his face blushed.

"I stopped receiving letter from herafter a year, and I didn't know what happened." Silvia's face darkened again. "I owled Professor Dumbledore, and that's when I found out... found out that Lily was dea- dead..."

Hershoulders begun to shake as she started crying. Harry reached out an arm and patted her back awkwardly. Then, as soon as it came, she was calm, cool and collected once more. She smiled at the Harry.

"Lily wanted me to be your godmother. I never had the chance to answer her. Owls take month to travel across continents you know. And after your parents died I found a job in the Chinese Ministry of Magic, Department of Mysteries, which brings us back to why I'm here."

Harry tensed. He could sense that the atmosphere changed: more formal, more serious, and for the first time, he noticed that they seemed to be sitting in a transparent, milky globe.

"It's a shield," Silvia explained, following Harry's stare. " One of my charming obsessions. Can't risk muggles, or more importantly, Death Eaters, walking on us. The shield acts like a combo ofmuggle repelling charm plus wizard repelling charm plus invisibility charm."

She paused a moment, allowing Harry to exam the shield closely. The milky dome shimmered and glowed dreamily in the dark. It was either very quiet out side the globe or the shield has cut off all the noise. After a while, Silvia began again.

"I was told by the headmaster that there is a prophecy concerning you and Voldemort. As soon as I learned that Voldemort had returned, I hurried here as fast as I can. I wanted to prepare you, Harry. That's what Lily would have wanted. That's what Dumbledore wants now, for me to train you." Silvia let the information sink in before she continued. "I was told, and I can sense, that you are a very powerful wizard. Don't you snort. You have great potentials, Dumbledore told me, and I suppose he's right, given your family back ground."

"What family background?" Harry was confused again.

"Don't tell me no body spoke to you about this before. You are directly related to Godric Gryffindor!" She gave him a calculating look. "It's on your father's side, in your father's blood and now in your blood. But that's beside the point.Anyway,I am to teach you a particular type of magic.You must have noticed that I do magic without a wand. Well, I'm going to train you how to do wandless magic."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "I thought that was impossible. What IS wandless magic exactly?"

"Uh-uh, questions tomorrow Harry, I know that inquisitiveness is a part of the Potter characteristic," Silvia grinned at him. " But for now, I'll just tell you that wandless magic requires careful control over your emotions. But we will mind that later. Starting from tomorrow I want you to wake up at 7 o'clock. I've charmed your closet into a training room so we can practice there. You have one month to master the basic and then you can carry on with the training in Hogwarts. As for your schedule and course, I will explain tomorrow. Now I will walk you home."

Harry was once more speechless.

He decided that he like Silvia. There is something about her, a reserved cheerfulness that made him feel safe and peaceful. She doesn't talk to him as if he was a child, and she wasn't keeping anything back. But the fact that she has just poured more information that his brain could hold had somehow shocked him senseless. Personal training!­ he never imagined them. It came too sudden.

Silvia spoke again as they walked along the deserted street.

"You've been quiet." It was a plain statement.

"Well," Harry allowed himself a small smile. "Let's just say that I've got indigestion in my brain."

Silvia gave a small laugh. Then Harry noticed that her movements were silent and fluid. She made no more sound than her shadow.

"They told me what happened at the end of your fifth year,"saidSilviaquietly. "They told me Sirius died."

"I suppose you are going to tell me it's not my fault," Harry snapped sullenly, the dream last night fresh in his mind again.

"Don't you snap at me Harry. I was in love with him for 6 years." Silvia cast him a sidelong glance, her eyes flashing with anger. "In my opinion, it was at least to some degrees your fault if not completely. Hate me if you want to. But sulking with yourself is not going to bring back Sirius, or wash away the guilt. I noticed that you always try to avoid streetlights. Well, life goes on. Sirius doesn't want you to waste away like this -DON'T interrupt! He died because of you.Despite your best intentions youdecided to play hero, and heros get peope killed,Harry. Theybath their glory, whether they mean it ornot, in the bloodof the fallen.It was your misinterpretation of the situation that caused his death, so stand up like a man Sirius was and face the consequence, make sure that doesn't happen again."

Harry was silent. For the next five minutes, neither of them spoke.

_Stand up and face the consequence make sure It doesn't happen again._ Silvia's voice echoed in Harry's head. For some reason he took her words very calmly. It was a shock, of course, as she was the first person to blame him for Sirius's death in his face, but for some reason, he took her words more calmly than other's consolation. That was just what he needed, a gentle slap in the face to wake him up.

After a while, Silvia spoke again.

"Harry? I'm sorry. It was harsh. Do you hate me?" Silvia was hesitant. "I'm sorry. I'm not taking back my words, but I realise you're grieving him too."

"Don't be. "Harry's voice was tight; his eyes watering with unshed tears. "You are right, I've been running away from my problems."

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Sirius's face was clear in his mind, letting out his usual bark-like laugh. He turned and smiled at Silvia.

"You are right. I've been wasting time for a month. It won't bring back Sirius. His voice suddenly turned bitter. "I know what to do. I will take revenge for Sirius. I will make Him pay. But I will kill her first. I owe Sirius that much. I'll kill Bellatrix Lestrange."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

**The Forgotten Magic **

If Uncle Vernon was not happy with Harry, he didn't show it.In fact, Harrybelieved that his uncle waspermanently scarred.

Last night, Silvia gave Harry an evil grin before blasting the door of the Dursley houseinto splinterswith a wave of her hand. The Dursleys hurried from the living room to investigate the source of the noise, and froze when they saw Silvia. Silvia, on the other hand, calmly waved her hand a little more and the door fixed itself asshe then lazily walked into the living room. The Dursleys followed her, their face deathly pale. Harry couldn't help but grin when he saw Dudley was clutching his bum and his mouth protectively.

Silvia sunk conformably into the squashy sofa and watched a perfume advert with interest before turning to Uncle Vernon, who was growing purple as minutes went by.

"Mr. Vernon Dursley, we meet at last." Her face was once more hidden behind a frozen mask. "Let me introduce myself. I am Silvia, from today I will be Harry's personal trainer."

Aunt Petunia gave out a little gasp, blushed and glanced atUncle Vernonwindows nervously.

"Ah, Petunia remembers me, doesn't she?" Silvia mocked. "Last time I saw you was when you were 17. Haven't changed much, have you? Still like to purse your lips?"

Uncle Vernon was positively trembling with rage,but he still hasn't forgotten her display of power fifteen minutes ago. Harry can see that his uncle'speanut brain is working furiously to assess the situation before bursting.

"That's right Mr. Dursley. Anger, or in your case, rage, can blind your judgements. Take a wrong step with me and I will have a good excuse to, say, hang around a bit." Silvia said pleasantly. "Evidently the Order has been quite satisfied with the treatment Harry's been receiving, so I won't give you any trouble if you don't mess with me. However, "

She snapped her fingers, and suddenly her wand appeared. Uncle Vernon watched it with barely hidden apprehension while Dudley swallowed, clutching his bottom even firmer, his jaws straining as if trying to swallow his tongue. The effort was turning his face purple. Aunt Petunia looked as if she's been forced to kiss Harry - a look of disgust and contempt that would have made Snape jealous, and there is also thinly veiled fear.

"It has been decided that Harry should take defense lessons with me, obviously for his own safety." Silvia ignored the paling Vernon Dursley. "He has been given permission to use magic for the summer, the authority comes from me. If anyone have a problem with that, including the Ministry of Magic, he can go and screw himself."

Silvia gave Harry a wink before continuing.

"He will begin his training tomorrow, which will take place inside his closet. Obviously I've charmed it, but you probably have no idea what I'm talking about."Harry grinned hearing this.The look on his uncle's facewas priceless."I have also put a silencing spell on the closet, as, of course Harry doesn't want you to be disturbed by the noise."

Silvia glanced at her watch, and her eyebrows shot up in surprice. She wrinkled her nose and turned back towards the Dursleys

"One last point." She glared at the Dursleys coldly. "If you interfere with Harry's business in any ways, mark my words I will know. I have warned you, now good night."

With a flicker of her wand this time (and a scream from Aunt Petunia), Silvia blasted a half the living room wall away and stepped into the night. As soon as her slender form dissolved in the darkness, the wall pieced back together (another scream), and not even dust remained.

Uncle Vernon gestured Harry to go upstairs. His hands shock violently, his face slightly green,but he remained quiet. It seems that Silvia's warning had been taken in.

Pale morning light peered into the bedroom through the curtains. Harry put on his glasses and glanced at the Alarm clock. It read: 6:30AM. Too exited to feel sleepy, he got up and went to the bathroom for a morning shower. Silvia was supposed to be by seven and hewas quite eager find out whatkind of lessons she. As far as he could tell, she was the most powerful person after Dumbledore and Voldemort. It would be interesting to see what she came up with.

When Harry returned to his room, it was exactly seven. He sat down, expecting Silvia to Apparate into his room. Five minutes later, the door of his closet opened.

Harry yelled out of shock.

"Silvia, what the… when did you get in?" He asked, irritatedat the lack of privacy.

"When you were in the shower of course. I wouldn't want to interfere with your privacy. Lily would hex me for that. You know what Harry, you look fartoo skinny for your height. I think if you bulk up a little, you'd be really hot," She snickered. "Don't waste time gaping, come in, will you?"

Harry blushed. He suddenly noticed that Silvia was wearing a very tight top. Glad she didn't see him looking, he followed her into the closet. Then his mouth fell open again.

The interior of the closet had been turned into some kind of room. Every inch of it was covered by thick, white cushions. The room was completely empty except for a few dummies at the center.

Silvia closed the door after him and snickered again at Harry's expression. Harry felt a cool hand pushing his jaw shut, it took him a second to react and glare at the now laughing form of Silvia.

"Honestly, you are supposed to be around thirty years old. Be mature, will you?" He muttered irritably.

"I'm never mature around your mum. And since powerful wizards and witches live more than 150 years, relatively to muggles I've just reached puberty." Silvia calmed down and threw herself onto the cushioned floor. "It will take a while to explain, so why don't you help yourself with… er… a seat?"

Harry shook his head in a resigned way and sat on the floor opposite her.

"Good. Now we can start the lesson." Silvia's tone formalized a little. "First of all, I want to ask you a question. Why are you able to use magic?"

Harry was startled. To be honest with himself, he had never considered the question in the past 5 years, so he shook his head dumbly in response.

"I didn't expect you to know the answer." Silvia smiled. "It's one of the things I study in the Department of Mystery. Most people don't concern themselves with the theory of magic, and therefore are oblivious to the fact that magic has different kinds, and different kinds of magic have different origins."

"Magic has different types?" said Harry, surprised.

"Oh yes. House elves, for instance, use a specific form of magic. Elven Magic are not as powerful as human magic, therefore we human due to our arrogant nature refuse to classify it as magic. Goblins also have their own kind of magic, as do centaurs. Humans can't use most non-human magic, which is obvious or it wouldn't be called "non-human" magic," she paused, scratching her nose thoughtfully." Also, magic evolves with time. Many spells used in ancient times were completely different from what we use now, most of them forgotten. Blood Charms, for example, is an ancient magic and not every one can cast it. My job was to recover the lost magic, or what I call the Forgotten Magic. I studied ancient runes from all over the world and I am proud to say, that I've discovered the basic theory behind one particular type of ancient magic."

With a wave of her hand, Silvia summoned a thick, battered book.

"Professor wanted me to give you this. It's some form of family heirloom, passed all the way from Godric Gryffindor to your father, and now to you."

"I'm related to Gryffindor?" Harry gasped.

"Obviously, I told you last night. How did you manage to pull that sword out in your second year if you're not?" Silvia frowned. "That's not an ordinary sword. I wasjust about to explain. Gryffindor used it more often that he used his wand, because he, like me, was very much interested in the art of the Forgotten Magic, and of course, he was way more accomplished than I am."

She paused, closed her eyes as if concentrating on something, then a plate carry a pot of tea, several eggs, a pile of bacon, and pumpkin juice appeared.

"Come on," said Silvia, watching Harry's awestruckexpression. "I'll tell you how this room works later. Eat something now, because you'll need it after I finish talking."

She watched Harry eating his egg with a loving expression, and continued.

"Now, where was I? Oh yes, the book. Gryffindor invented some spells from his knowledge of the ancient magic and wrote them in the book. I must admit I am very, very, very curious about what he wrote, but there is a Blood Charm placed on it. Only a true heir of Gryffindor can read the contents. If any others try to open it, their fingers get burnt." Silvia rubbed a healing burnt mark on her pale hand. "Professor wants you to study these spells, and me to help you. But before we start, I want you to understand the true use of wand and incantations. As you surely knew already, and don't tell me if you didn't, that wand is used to focus magic. Magic is this randomly flowing spiritual energy stored up in you. While each person's store of magic is unlimited and regenerating, his or her body's ability to channel the magic is different. When a muggle try to direct the magic stored in his or her body, he or her would simply blow up into pieces. A wizard or witch, on the other hand, has the required recessive allele for magic conduction. The wand focuses the magic, and the spell focuses the caster's concentration. Different spells have different wand movement, different incantations… blah blah blah."

Silvia paused, as if considering something.

"Think about it Harry, how complicated and boring that is. In fact, it's so boring that I refuse to talk about it anymore. What modern wizarding population forgot completely is that your body is the best channel for power. What they lack is the belief of being able to do wandless magic. Emotions, on the other hand, make your body even more sensitive to magic, so you can channel more of that force. This is why a calm emotion is crucial for wandless magic, or you may blast your target to pieces with a simple stunner."

Harry has forgotten about eating and was absorbed completely into what Silvia was saying. He waited silently for her to continue as she took a long drought of tea.

"Well Harry, the key to wandless magic is belief. Believe you can do it, and you can do it, which is why sometimes it's also called Mind Magic. However, you can't underestimate the role your body plays, which is crucial part. You've seen me doing minor spells. In fact, the most I can do is a stunner, which might stun me as well depending on my mood. Professor Dumbledore on the other hand, is much more accomplished. Gryffindor was a Mind Magic master. From what I have been told, he rarely used his wand. You, Harry, being his heir if not direct descendent, also have the potentials. It's pretty obvious that you have the talent. No one I know can do a Patronus at the age of thirteen. Dumbledore doesn't want that talent to go to waste, and nor do I. It'd be a valueble weapon to have when you fight Voldemornt."

Harry snorted.

"Fine, I see you won't believe me. Don't then. You will see soon enough." Silvia sniffed as she took a piece of bacon from Harry's plate. "I was told that you have a bad temper. You blew up your aunt in your third year, not that I wouldn't, and you couldn't even lie properly to certain Umbrige womanlast year. That total bitch."

Harry snorted again, choking on his pumpkin juice. Silvia clapped on his back as he coughed and continued.

"Those are bad signs... it means you have very little control over your emotion, and therefore the first thing you need to learn is Shadow Boxing. Shake your head if you don't know it." Silvia said with a lopsided grin.

Harry shook his head second time for the day, feeling ignorant and dumb. A little like Grabbe or Goyel, or both.

"Well, it's a Chinese thing, a combination of martial art, philosophy and mind calming technique. You don't need to know the principles behind it, nor am I able to explain. But after learning it, you will find yourself seeing the world from a new perspective, in battle you'll have extraordinary reflex, and you will be able to control your emotions at will. " Silvia explained in a mock lecture voice. "Now stand up, and tough luck if you haven't finished eating."

The tray and the piece of egg Harry was about to swallow disappeared. Harry scowled but stood up.

"Calm your mind Harry."

The room dimmed. The cushioned walls seemed to shimmer slightly.

"Relax, bend your knees slightly." Silvia stood behind Harry, holding his wrist. "Breath with me. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale. Breath…"

The scenery of the room suddenly changed to one like the Hogwarts Forbidden Forest. Dim sunlight seeped down the gaps of the leaves above. Sweet scent of fresh leaves rushed into his lungs.

"Picture your magic Harry." Silvia whispered. Her ethereal voice reminded him of Professor Trelawney. "Imagine it like a warmth randomly flowing in your body."

Harry tried to imagine a flow of power in his body, and was surprised that he really did feel it.

"That was easy. Now imagine the flow being directed by your thought. Imagine that you can focus it at will, in any directions. Imagine that your body does not confine your magic. Focus it into a ball, make it hover near your stomach."

Harry did, and it hurts, like forcing all his blood flow towards a common goal below his heart. He felt dizzy and he felt sick.

"Hold your hands like you're holding a ball between them. Right hand on top, just below your heart, left hand under your navel," whispered Silvia, taking a step away from him. She looked a little tentative, which was surprising, but Harry was beyond caring now. All his thoughts are focused on the flow of power in veins, restraining it from shattering.

"Imagine holding all your power in a globe between your hands, relax. Don't work against the power, persuade it." Silvia said somewhere on the left. "Remember, your power is like your soul, it has it's own judgements. Subtle, Harry, subtlety is the key."

Feeling like the skin around his navel is boiling, Harry imagines directing his power out of his body. Maybe not directing is not the right word, because it was as hard as making his earlobes dance. But then, a pale glow penetrated his eyelids, and Harry opened his eyes.

A small white light ball was focused between his hands, smaller than a Bludger and glowing like a slightly grayer version of a Patronus. Harry gasped in surprise and lost concentrations.

What happened next was told by Silvia later because his was hurting too much to see. The power ball broke off like an unchained wild dog and smashed into a nearby tree. The tree was instantly burnt to dust and the light ball dissolved into pale light, while Harry felt like some part of his soul was sucked out, and collapsed.

Harry felt a hand shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes and saw that the forest scene was gone, replaced again by the cushioned room. Silvia was bending over him. Seeing him awake, she sighed with relief.

"That was amazing Harry." Her voice shook slightly. "It wasn't exactly difficult, but I never expected you to be able to focus your magic on the first try. It took me aweek to do it."

Harry tried to sit up but failed. Instead, he felt a sharp jolt of pain in his chest.

"That's normal." Silvia explained, watching him closely. "You've just focused all your magic for the first time in your life. Your body's not used to it yet. With more practice, you will be able to direct your magic at will. Your power will not be confined in your body."

"I feel like my heart's being ripped off." Harry panted.

"That would be enough for today," Silvia smiled. "But I'm setting you homework. And don't groan. I want you to read these books."

She waved her hand carelessly, and a several books appeared on top of Gryffindor's one. One of them even had funny Chinese symbols on them.

"They are translated." Silvia said, seeing Harry's doubtful expression. "Or more precisely, I translated them. I want you to read them. Some of them will explain how to calm your mind; some of them will explain the nature of Wandless magic. The Griffidor book I will keep for now, and we will start learning them as soon as you can focus your magic properly. While what you did just then was impressive, it was a fiasco."

The Gryffindor book detached itself from the pile and vanished in thin air.

"I'm taking off now. Tomorrow you can tell me what you read." Silvia stood up and gave Harry a hug. "You can try some wandless magic in your room. It's easier if you figure it out yourself than me feeding you the knowledge. I charmed your room so the ministry can't detect magical signatures - not that they can detect wandless magic anyway. Try not to blow up the room though, otherwise my shield won't work."

Smiling, she climbed out of the closet, giving Harry another calculating glance and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

**A Different Home**

_London…_

_The streets were filled with people, some walked in easy strides, some buried their heads in morning papers, some calmly sipped their coffee in street corner cafes, all of them oblivious to the dingy little door that separated two worlds, passing their morning leisurely, absorbed in their own business, too blind to see what she saw. _

_The little girl stared wide-eyed at the person standing before her. Sunlight cascaded down the lengths of his brilliant silver hair, bathing him in an ethereal glow. He wore a long cloak, and his face was hidden behind a black, featureless mask. He held a long stick in one hand, his eyes scanning the streets with barely hidden contempt. People walked past him, oblivious._

_Suddenly the man's eyes turned to hers. He seemed to be surprised at being recognized. The maniacal light in eyes relented a little as they watched each other, and then the man raised his stick._

_Dust swirled with the swooshing of cars, swirled again with a flashing green followed by a flashing red… _

_Then the world shattered into a million pieces before her eyes… _

The next two weeks passed with a blur. Harry's training with Silvia changed from focusing his power to learning a kind of a slow dance. Shadow boxing, She called it. It was certainly slower than shadow in Harry's eyes, but the sluggish movements did have a calming effect, and afterwards, Harry was able to sustain the power ball for so long that Silvia actually got bored waiting. She also began teaching Harry some of the ancient spells, explaining to him that these spells can be done without a wand. Harry took them all up, like a sponge. He was so absorbed that he hadn't even realized his birthday had come and passed without any presents.

The books can't really be considered as interesting, but the subject did have a quaint charm that sustained Harry's curiosity. Unlike any other text books, they talked about history of Mind Magic, cultures inspired my Mind Magic and even the types of food that were apparently good for the mind. It seemed that ancient Chinese had some very intimate relationship with Mind Magic. Western magical folks back then were obsessive with staffs, which somehow was the cause of several failed invasion against Ancient China before they realized they were all similar magical people, and their real enemy were the muggles.

"It's for you to discover." Silvia smiled mysteriously when Harry tried to ask her why Mind Magic was more powerful than wands. "I've told you the other night. Anyhow I don't really understand it, so it's for you to discover. Who knows, maybe you'll end up uncovering its secrets."

So Harry spent the weeks monotonously, and when he was bored he would go into the closet to 'disarm' dummies without a wand. The first time he tried that, he managed to throw himself in the other direction, straight into the cushioned walls. After a week he got better at casting Disarming charms, at least he wouldn't disarm himself in the process.

On a morning of the third week of his training, Harry left the house for a morning run, which began since Silvia showed up. Silvia took over his life completely; she cooked his meals, bought him cloths, wrote him a workout schedule and even rigorously tried to make him talk about sex. According to her, if he filled out a bit, he could be a bigger Hogwarts sex symbol than Sirius was. Partly for that reason he stuck to her timetable ritualistically. But there was something different today. As he stepped out of the door, he felt something different.

Shadow boxing did have an effect on his senses. For an ordinary person, everything seemed normal. From the faint sunlight to the half-wilted lawn and the dusty pavement, nothing was out of the ordinary.

But still he can feel it. A presence, not a threatening one, but alert and tense. Harry closed his mind and focused, then, with the agility he built up as a seeker, he made grab to the left. His hand slammed painfully into something solid wrapped in a cool, sleek material and whatever it was collapsed onto the floor. A second later, Mad Eye Moody disentangled himself awkwardly from his Invisibility Cloak, swearing.

"Bloody hell Potter, how did you know?" He grabbed Harry's outstretched hand and stood up stiffly. "I've never even seen an Auror who can detect Invisibility cloaks. Without magical eyes that is. How the hell did you do that?"

With a faint chuckle, Harry said, "You were too tense. It shows in your magic field, that's why I could feel you."

Moody shook his head mumbling something indistinguishable and then recovered his usual composure.

"Whereare you going Potter?" He growled.

"Running." Harry shrugged. "Why are _you_ here?"

"Circumstance changed Potter." Moody's magical eye swirled around in its socket. "From now on, you are not allowed to go out of the house alone. In fact, it would be better if you don't go anywhere at all."

"Why?" Asked Harry, surprised. "No one stopped me going to the park two weeks ago."

Moody looked uncomfortable. He shifted his wooden leg, staring at Harry with his normal eye with a pitying expression.

"Sorry Potter. I don't want to keep information from you, but it's classified. All you need to know is that it's not longer safe for you to leave the house."

Harry was not pleased, and he felt the air around him flare up with anger. Using the techniques he learnt in Silvia's books, he managed to calm himself before exploding.

"Why?" He asked in a calm voice as he bent down to tighten his shoelaces. "You better explain. Or one way or another I will go out, and no one can stop me."

If Moody was surprised at the sudden outburst of power, he was even more surprised at the indifference that suddenly settled in Harry's voice. If the boy was controlling his anger by force, then he was doing an incredible job. Harry Potter had changed. He was not the impatient boy he picked up a year ago. This was a young man to watch for.

"Walls have ears Potter, so I will make it quick and brief. You've been refusing to get in touch with the wizarding world, so you don't know. There had been no Death Eater activity for a while, but we had sources to suggest that the Death Eaters are preparing for something big." Moody paused, as if hesitating, his magical eyes spinning so fast that it made Harry feel dizzy. "We were right. Yesterday, Diagon Ally was attacked. The muggle street outside was completely devastated and it wasn't much better inside."

"What?" Harry blurted out, his pulse rate stepping up instantly.

"That's not all. On the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, a message was left for the world to see." Moody's voice lowered to a coarse whisper. "_This is for you, Harry Potter_."

It took him a minute for his brain to understand what Moody said.

Harry felt numb. Diagon Ally attacked because of him. People died because of him. He felt sick, he felt his eyes prickle, and he felt, once more, the unbearable weight of guilt.

"It's not your fault Potter." Whispered Moody, as if he could tell how Harry was thinking. "It's His fault. From now on, you have to be placed under 24-hour surveillance. We are planning to take you out of here tomorrow, until then you have to stay in the house, where the protection is strongest."

Harry nodded, not really taking anything in. _This is for you, Harry Potter_. He could see it in his mind's eye, bright green letters among the dusty debris. He could imagine the astonishment of all those survivors; he could feel the confusion of the nameless dead. He remembered the first time Hagrid brought him to Diagon Ally. The sun shone brightly, gleaming on dust free windows. People's voice over lapping – exited squeals, disgusted mummers, heated bargains…

But Diagon Ally was no more.

After a while, Moody broke the silence. "You know what this means boy, don't you?" He said grimly as he opened the door.

Harry nodded darkly.

The war has begun.

Harry brooded in his room for the rest of the day. The Dursleys left after Moody paid them some money, the house was kept empty just for him. The ex-Auror placed Alarm spells on the doors and windows before he left, telling him that the Order Members will be watching from hidden locations. Silvia came, but her face was masked by sadness, and her eyes slightly bloodshot.

"More than a hundred muggles and wizards died," she told him weakly, slumping into a chair. "They blasted the entire street to pieces. Nothing, and I do mean _nothing_, in the proximity survived. It was variation of a mining curse; I don't think an everyday Death Eater could have done this. It must have been some big man at the top."

Harry was silent. He hadn't said a word since Moody brought the news. _This is for you, Harry Potter._

"The strange thing was, no killing curse had been used." Silvia rubbed her eyes. "We think it served as a warning, a declaration of war, to show us how vulnerable the wizarding world is."

She left a few minutes later, saying that she's on duty.

"Oh, and Harry, tomorrow morning we are leaving for Grimmauld's place," said Silvia as she closed the door.

Harry went up to his training closet. What he needed now was to let out some of the steam building up inside him. He knew the perfect spell, something he looked up in his Ancient Spells book.

"_Conflo_!" He shouted without even drawing out a wand.

A cluster of dummies exploded, showering the snow-white cushions with beautiful patterns of black soot. Harry stood by the door, panting. Crude images of burning bodies flashed in his mind.

_It could have happened to someone I knew_. He thought. _How do I face my friends then?_

It was then he made a decision: some people are meant to be alone. He would have to leave his friends, alienate himself from the others – Ron, Hermione, and those with him in the Department of Mysteries, Neville, Luna and Ginny. If he could give Voldemort the impression the he doesn't have any friends, they would probably be safe. He wasn't sure it'd be enough though. No one was safe in a war.

It wasn't a painful decision. In his heart he knew how much he loved his friends. But so far he had found loneliness comforting and safe. He just needed to keep that feeling until he dies.

"Until HE dies." Harry corrected himself. "Until I kill that fucking bastard Voldemort."

Next morning, he found another Advance Guard waiting for him in the kitchen.

Lupin was there. He looked more tired and pale than ever. His eyes were sunken, and most of his hair had become gray. Remus grieves the loss of Sirius more than he did, Harry realized. He had lost a godfather he barely knew, but Lupin lost his only remaining best friend.

"Hi Harry." Remus surprised him by giving him a crushing hug. "We are here to take you home. How are you?"

Harry's throat felt tight. What would Grimmauld place feel like without Sirius?

"I'm fine." Harry managed, and then smiled at the skeptical expression that crept onto his old professor's face. "I'm fine, really. I know I've been saying that for a whole summer, but I'm really fine now. Shall we just go?"

Remus nodded to a tall, dark man next to him, who had all these time been tense and alert. Kingsley Shacklebolt took out a vial from his pocket and poured out some sticky black liquid into five glasses on the kitchen table.

"Polyjuice potion?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows.

"How do you - ? Oh never mind." Lupin frowned, while Kingsley looked amused. "Then you should know that we need your hair."

He cut off wisps of Harry's shoulder length hair and put them into the cups. The potion bubbled and turned to a blood red color.

"Interesting, Harry." Kingsley studied the potion carefully. "Interesting indeed. That would be one each for Remus, Alaster, Silvia, Hestia, and me. Five Harry Potters. That should confuse them. All right, let's go. The others are waiting outside. Trunk?"

Harry waved his hand randomly, and his trunk drifted into his room like a pet dog. Silvia, who chose to enter at his particular moment, smiled at this while Remus and Kingsley looked surprised. Taking out his wand, Remus levitated the glasses and directed them outside. Soon, six Harry Potters were standing outside on the lawn.

"Ok Potter, if one of us dies…" That's Moody.

"No body's going to die Alaster," said a voice, deeper and more mature than the usual Harry. Probably Kingsley.

"Ok, everybody mount your brooms. They are charmed with invisibility spells so no one can see us. But just in case, we will shift positions so no one can see any pattern. There won't be any reserve, so if we are attacked, Harry, just do whatever you can to get out of the fight. Let's go."

Six Harry Potters soared into the sky, and the real Harry's eyes watered in the wind.

"Just keep going straight. We need to get you there as fast as we can." One of the Harry Potters following him shouted.

They passed streets after streets unseen, cars sized like matchbox crawled below them. Harry suddenly wondered where the Dursleys are. How would they feel about being kicked out of their own home? One Harry Potter swooped next to him, now he found himself edging to the left of the formation, and then another Harry Potter was on his right.

"Time to start the descent," came his own voice with a Silvia-like little laugh. "Follow Harry, Harry."

They went into a dive, lower and lower until they were once more on solid ground. Harry looked around, the garden was the same as he remembered, but the windows were no longer dusty and the door had been repainted.

"Ok boy, let's get in," the Harry next to him said.

Six Harry Potters walked up the worn stone steps, five of them nervously glancing around, wands out. The Harry ahead tapped the door once with his wand, and the door opened after a series of metallic clicks. Six squeezed through the door under the cover of the night.

The place had lost its dusty smell and derelict feeling. One of the Harrys walked down the hall while another surveyed around with interest.

"Oh Harry, it _SO_ good to see you. You're looking good. I really must thank Silvia for that. Where are the rest?" Harry heard Mrs. Weasley's subdued voice. The whispers grew nearer, and then stopped.

For a moment there was a stunned silence as Mrs Weasley stared at Six Harry Potters before her, then she screamed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five **

**Reunion **

"Ahhhh ..." Mrs Weasley screamed, her hands fluttering at so many Harry Potters before her.

One of them, presumably Lupin, stepped forward to calm her. He carried a small smile on his face. "It's alright Molly. It's us, we've taken polyjuice potion to look like Harry."

But the rest of his words were suddenly lost in an ears-splitting screech as a long, moth-eaten curtains flown open to reveal a ghastly old woman. Mrs Black wailed and screeched, her rolling eyes matching Moody's magical ones, claw like hands tore at the invisible barrier between her the real world.

"YOU! HALFBLOOD FILTH, SCUM, ABOMINATION! WHY DON'T YOU JOIN THE SHAME OF MY FLESH IN HELL?" She howled. "BE GONE FROM THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS. FREAK! FILTH! JOIN MY SON AND BURN IN HELL! YES, MY SON, LAST OF THE BLACK, THE ONE YOU KILLED"

The others shifted nervously, searching among themselves for the real Harry Potter. Mrs Weasley surveyed the group anxiously, occasionally casting a disgusted glance at the portrait.

"AND YOU!" Mrs Black screeched at Mrs Weasley. "BLOOD-TRAITOR, BY-PRODUCT OF VILENESS, THE VERY AIR YOU BREATH IS CONTAMINATION! AND YOU! GET THIS FURRY BEASE OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Finally, one Harry Potter spoke quietly from a corner. "Would someone kindly explain why this thing is still here?"

The others flinched, as if Harry has just screamed out aloud. Suddenly, one of them shuddered. Harry's black hair turning gray, his features changed into tired apprehension. Remus Lupin stood where Harry Potter was a few seconds ago. One by one, after him the effect of the potion worn off. Moody, without his wooden leg, collapsed onto the floor with a loud 'thunk'.

"We tried Harry. Even Dumbledore lent us a hand, but no one could get it off." Lupin said loudly over the screams. "The headmaster thinks that the portrait has some of Mrs Black's life trapped in it, black magic."

Harry stepped forward to face the portrait, his face cold as steel, and a fiery light burnt behind his eyes.

"Shut up." It wasn't a shout, but an air of authority clung to it, and Mrs Blake suddenly became quiet. She stared at the young boy before her, drooling.

"WHO ARE YOU TO GIVE ME ORDERS? AS INSOLENT AS THAT TRAITOR SON OF MINE. NO. I HAVE NO SON, HE WAS NO MORE A BLACK THAN YOU ARE." The portrait howled, her eyes popping out.

The others shuddered involuntarily. The atmosphere changed, tension mingled with hatred. Harry didn't move, but power radiated from him like mist, almost visible. The air around him shimmered and cracked.

"I told you to shut up." Harry whispered, staring at the portrait intensely.

What followed was an ongoing scream. The others screwed up their eyes and covered their ears. Mrs Blake's portrait clawed her own face. The yellowing skin of her face turned white, her gray hair streaked with black turned completely silver. The skin on her hands and face creased and tightened, her rolling eyes swarmed by mists of gray. Her scream turned lower and coarse, like the deathbed mourning of torture. The voice turned tighter and tighter, like the sound of a choked chicken. Finally, the wailing was replaced by absolute silence. The only noise was Harry's heavy breathing. The others were stunned at the sight of an almost mummified figure of Mrs Blake, her mouth opened in an unfinished scream.

The portrait fell onto the floor with a clunk.

Harry looked down at his own hands. He felt no glee or satisfaction. In fact, he doesn't even understand what had just happened. It was accidental magic, focused and intensified by hatred. He managed a sad smile and a "sorry" at the petrified form of Mrs Weasley, then dragged his foot heavily towards the stairs.

The stairs seemed endless. Harry felt empty and drained after the outburst of power. If he wasn't mistaken, he had just destroyed the last sign of Blacks in this house. The line of Black now truly ended. The house felt so empty without Sirius's bark-like laugh. The walls, despite being freshly painted, felt gloomier than ever. Harry turned right and reached for the room he stayed in last time.

But someone was already in there.

He caught sight of long, flaming red hair, freckled face, and then ...

"Harry!"

Ginny Weasley was not the little girl Harry remembered. She still wore her white nightdress and a matching while dressing gown, but the thin summer nightdress hid nothing of her subtle curves. She had also grown a few centimeters higher. Ginny jumped up from the bed bare foot, as if about to give Harry a hug, but then she caught herself and just smiled at him.

"Hello, Harry I didn't know you were coming," she studied him with interest. Something about Harry changed. There was, for the first she remembered, a glint of confidence in his eyes. It was masked under layers of grief and guilt, a feeling she was only too familiar with. She blushed slightly as his eyes traveled down the length of her body, lingering at certain places.

"Sorry Ginny." Harry blushed, embarrassed by his lack if self-control. "I thought I'm staying in this room like last time."

"I live with 6 brothers." Ginny brushed aside the apology lightly and continued to scrutinize him. "You look different."

She then looked up to his eyes and smiled warmly.

"Ron is working for the twins in their shop. Business's booming so they thought they would leave a chance for their little bro to get rich, and Hermione is helping them." Ginny got up and turned to rummage in a closet. "Mum won't let me go with them, but they promised me they'll buy my school things and some new cloths, despite of mum's objection. I don't think mum likes their job much, but right now they are working to help the Aurors and Dumbledore's operatives to rebuild Diagon Ally, so mum really can't object much. Actually the twins can be really sensitive when they want to. They bought mum a new set of kitchen stuff – she loves cooking – the moment they earned the money. Mum's really happy. She doesn't show it, but we all know she is."

"Oh." Harry was at a loss of words. He wasn't really listening; rather, he took her time staring at the young girl before him, her dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, the freckled face. She looked very much like the 16 years old Lily Evans, except the eye color.

"Do you mind, Harry?" Ginny smiled softly. "I want to change."

Stumbling, Harry turned awkwardly and left the room. He was confused. He never felt like this, except when talking to Cho Chang. Could it be possible that he was in love with Ginny, Ron's little sister? But then, he remembered his resolution of staying away from his friends.

"No girlfriend for you, Potter." He muttered sadly to himself. "And no life either."

"Talking to yourself, Harry?" The door opened, revealing Ginny wearing a simple blue sleeveless top and jeans.

"Not really." Harry said, allowing a small smile for her. Whatever his new view towards Ginny is, he would have to keep it to himself. "Just reminding myself of my grim future."

"Really? Well, Professor Trelawney," Ginny smiled mischievously. "Where did you hide Harry Potter?"

Harry laughed. The first real laugh he'd had for a long time.

"So, Harry, how are you?" Ginny asked. "We tried to send you owls, but apparently Dumbledore's made you owl-proof."

"I'm fine. Really." Harry said, seeing Ginny's shrewd expression.

"Don't lie to me, Harry. You're not fine, of course not." Ginny looked at him in the eyes. "But you will be. That's what Sirius would have wanted."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. Now I'm really fine." He said.

Ginny returned his smile.

Harry and Ginny spent the rest of their morning in the attic with the hippogriff Buckbeak, both knowing that it's too much of a security risk for Harry to turn up in public.

They talked about their summer and Harry's training. They talked about school and Quidditch and DA meetings. They had lunch with Buckbeak, feeding him dead rats and a few rabbits.

"He's really upset." Ginny stroked the hippogriff's neck tenderly. "He misses Sirius. We cleared the attic so he could stay here. We have to keep him locked up in here, and he's been really good about it."

Buckbeak rubbed his large head against Ginny's small, pale hand and closed his eyes. Harry suddenly felt a pang of emotions. Sadness, despair, anger, hatred and love flooded him at all at once. Buckbeak curled up next to Ginny, snapping his beak in content.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Harry studied Ginny's face as Ginny looked pitifully at the sleeping hippogriff. Suddenly Ginny turned around and Harry quickly averted his eyes.

"You know, we are planning a belated birthday party for you."

"You don't hav ..."

"Yes we do," interrupted Ginny. "And don't you argue with me. It's Ron's idea."

Harry was silent again. A random sadness seemed to have settled in his heart.

"Ron, Hermione and the twins should be back any minute," Ginny said suddenly. "Let's go down."

Glad to have a diversion, Harry stood up and followed her downstairs.

The Weasleys and Hermione were back when the two drifted into the kitchen. Harry smiled at his best mate. The bright red hair and the freckled long nose were the same, but the expression Ron bore on his face was more mature, and he was also several inches higher. Apparently Fred and George didn't give their little brother any easy job, and the powerful veined arms revealed by the sleeveless T-shirt made Harry secretly feel ashamed. He felt infinitely smaller now.

Ron jumped up from the chair when he saw Harry and gave him a brotherly hug that nearly choked all the air out of his lungs. The twins grinned broadly when they saw Ginny following Harry.

"I hope you've kept our queen of Pranks entertained Harry." Fred gave him a sloppy grin. Harry has learnt how to separate the twins over the years. Fred's eyes were less savage.

Ginny blushed and slapped him on the arm.

"Nice to see you again Harry." Ron grinned at his friend. "We didn't know you were coming, or I would have stayed to wait."

"Hem, hem, don't I get a hug?" Harry's visions were suddenly blocked by a large amount of bushy hair.

Harry's smile dimmed a little, but the ache in his heart grew stronger. Distance, Potter, Distance. He reminded himself.

"Harry, are you ok?" Ron said, taking a step closer. Harry saw for the first time that Ron had flame shaped tattoo on his forearm Ron saw him looking. "Oh, that! It's to cover the scars left by the brains. Magical scars don't come off, so the twins persuaded mum to let me get a tattoo to cover it. Hermione chose the flame because it looks cool, and how unlike her to let me have a tattoo." He laughed.

Harry nodded and held up Ron's arm to inspect it. Ron was attacked by brains with tentacles in the Department of Magic, the scar was still faintly visible at a close distance.

Harry thought about something else to say, but settled for awkward silence. Everyone grinned at him happily, oblivious to the inner struggle now going on in his heart. He cleared his throat. It had to be done, he told himself. You're pushing them away because you love them.

_Really? _A voice whispered in his head, the same voice that had eased his loneliness weeks ago. _I say you're just a sissy. If you want to protect them, why not make yourself stronger? Don't you think they'll be in more danger without you? What if something happens then? Luck for you to push away your obligations._

Harry scowled to himself, but wasn't able to come up with an argument. He missed the confused face everyone wore.

Suddenly, his private debate was interrupted by a quiet cough.

"The reunion is all very touching, but I have something important to say to Potter." Severus Snape materialized from the shadows in the corner. "So you five better remove your presence from this room."

Harry felt a rush of burning hatred as he glared the greasy hair, the cold eyes and the hooked nose. Dumbledore had defended Snape last year in his office, and that only served to make Harry hate him more. The slimy son of a bitch was the one who deserved to die rather that Sirius.

"Nice to see you too Potter." Snape sneered sarcastically, but at the same time chilled by the icy glare that replaced the anger in Harry's eyes.

"What do you want?" Harry said in a tight, controlled voice.

"This matter is between the headmaster, you and Black, I think your little inner circle should clear off first. " Snape opened the door with his wand and glanced disdainfully at the Hermione and the Weasleys, who were now surrounding Harry protectively.

The kitchen door suddenly slammed shut, as if blown by a powerful wind. Snape whipped his head towards Harry, who drew out a chair and sat down, struggling to keep his face cool.

"I say they stay." Harry said coldly. "Since this matter is between me, Sirius and Dumbledore, you have no authority to give orders."

Snape was trembling with rage. Color drained from his cheek and his hand clenched his wand.

"How dare you speak to me in such manner?" He growled. "I see you've become more arrogant and impertinent than your father and Black. Black didn't know his position, and look what it got him into. You will end up the same if you don't watch your steps."

The others glanced across Harry and Snape like watching boxing match. Ginny's eyes were strained with concern and fear. But Harry was calm.

"Yeah? Well Snape, in that case I'll make sure you end up worse." Harry said quietly. "Move your wand and it will be the last time you see it."

Severus Snap stood frozen. Harry Potter spooked him. The gleam in his eyes, the tone and even the calm gesture of his hands reminded him of the person he feared and hated most. He had suddenly realized, that Harry Potter, with his black shoulder-length hair, dark cold eyes, looked very much like the young Tom Riddle he saw in a photograph, and his half-whispering sound so much like the Dark Lord now.

"The headmaster has a message for you." Snape forced his voice to return to normal, although his body was shaking in rage and apprehension. "It has been decided by the Order, that you, being Black's godson, will inherit all his processions, including Number 12 Grimauld's place plus a further forty-two thousand Gallons which has already been transferred to your vault. Good day."

With that, he turned on his heel and swept out of the Kitchen, banging the door behind him.

"Wow, Harry, that was really cool." Ron said with an air of awe after a minute of stunned silence.

Hermione only frowned

"Super cool." The twins agreed. "No one's ever seen old Snape back down from anybody. You got it Harry."

But Harry didn't hear the rest, he was looking at Ginny. She was looking at Harry with an expression that showed fear and disgust. She locked her eyes with him for a moment, and then left without a word. The rest stared after her.

"Now what?" Ron mumbled. "What's wrong with _her_?"

* * *

I'll answer the reviews now. Apparently this is where ppl do it on this site.

firetiger: thanks! I feel so too! I'll finish it this time, I promise.

seekergirl101: Soooo very nice to see you again. Sorry about the MNFF thing. I had a few problems back then.

Dena: Thanks! It's always nice to hear ppl saying things like that. Actually I kinda feel inferior after reading some stuffs on this site. Anyway, again, I'm deeply sorry for removing it from MNFF.

: lol thanks pal, i didn't notice. i do havea lot of errors but i think it gets better after chapter 8/9...

Nevermind: was it? sorry about that. thanks anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Vision **

WhileSeverus Snape left the kitchen of Grimauld's place, Remus Lupin was locked in a furious argument with Dumbledore.

"You have to do _something_, Dumbledore!" Lupin's neck was flushed with red. "You can't just _leave_ Harry getting possessed."

Dumbledore signed heavily as he paced around his office. "No Remus. Even if I could I wouldn't. It's his destiny. If Fate has decided to give him this trial, then it's up to Harry to live through it. All I can do is but to have faith in him. And I ask you to do the same." Dumbledore looked old and weary when he spoke.

"But Professor, just why exactly do you think Harry's being possessed?" Silvia interrupted. "I don't understand that."

Dumbledore turned his deep-blue gaze at the young woman in front of him.

"First, Silvia, don't call me Professor. Albus will be fine, or Dumbledore." He said quietly. "As you know, Harry and Voldemort are linked through the scar, the reason for which I dare not say I completely understand. Last year, in the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort turned this connection to his advantage. He fused with Harry mentally and controlled him. Under normal circumstances, any normal person would have exploded under the immense magical strain this created. Harry didn't. Apparently Voldemort recognized the boy's natural affinity to magic, as otherwise he would not have taken the risk. I very much believe that Voldemort expected to have total control over the boy, and so did I. I won't even attempt to pretend that understand what the boy felt at that moment. Pain, presumably, but also something much more powerful. An emotion so deep and powerful that it was able to cause physical interference. It awakened Harry's magic, it drove away Voldemort."

Dumbledore walked to a cupboard and took out his pensive.

"Here, look at this." He probed the silver liquid with his wand, and a miniature Harry rose from it, floating several inches above the stone basin.

_Harry was lying face down on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as though he lay upon ice. He opened his eyes and reached out for his glasses lying by the heel of a headless statue. He put them on and raised his head to face the anxious face of Dumbledore._

"_Are you all right, Harry?" The voice was deep and magnetic._

"Oh my God." Silvia gasped, staring at the miniature replay of the scene.

_Harry was shaking violently; his scar was burning, and his eyes… for a fraction of a second, scarlet, slit-like pupils stared through his eyes, andthen they were gone. _

"Yes." Whispered Dumbledore. "A part of Voldemort's magic was left in Harry, as well as a part of his memories. Voldemort himself was not aware of this, although he may discover that his power had somehow reduced. The memories have been planted in Harry's mind, it will grow and blossom. Harry will relive, in his mind, the life of Voldemort until the moment in the Ministry. He will experience Voldemort's emotions, see the world through Tom Riddle's view. In the end he would have to make a choice. If he chooses wrongly, then a new Dark Lord will be born, one more powerful and evil than Voldemort himself."

Silvia was visibly shaking, and Lupin was as pale as death. For a moment, the three stared at each other, then Silvia broke the ice.

"Do you still think it's a good idea for me to teach him the Mind Magic?" She asked coarsely.

"Oh yes." Dumbledore responded heavily. "It will help him. The ancient philosophy he learns in the process will help him to make the correct choice."

"I don't think he's understanding it well though," Silvia interrupted nervously. "He should feel more peaceful instead of more reserved and quiet, like he is nowadays. The boy has experience too much grief, I doubt any external methods could help him. He needs to find his own peace now."

Dumbledore nodded his agreement. "Yes, and I have faith he will. I know the boy. He was born with the capacity to love, unlike Tom. He may never be happy again, that I don't know, but I do know that he will not become evil. It's a paradox. But hate and grief can become a powerful weapon when used for love."

Silence drifted back into the room again, and this time the silence lasted. The portraits on the wall no longer tried to sneak peeks at them, they were all surveying the three attentively.

"I want you to keep this secret," Dumbledore said with an air of finality. "And before you go, Silvia, I want to ask you a favor. School will begin in a month and I…"

"Don't worry Albus." Silvia gave him a sad smile. "I'm not leaving Harry alone when he needs someone. I will take the job."

Dumbledore smiled wearily.

"Thank you."

Harry, Ron and Hermione helped Mrs Weasley to prepare dinner. Ginny locked herself in her room and refused to come out all day. Harry quietly laid plates on the table, ignoring the half-worried, half-fearful glances from Mrs Weasley, ignoring the confused glances from Ron and Hermione. The four then sat through a dismal reunion dinner. No one joined them, since other Order members are on duty. Finally, Ron decided to break the ice.

"Harry, if you're pissed off with the fact that no one came home to give you a welcome party…" He shut up with a warning glance from Hermione.

"I'm not." Harry responded quietly, staring at his plate.

_Distance, Potter._

Mrs Weasley waved her wand and the plates flew to the sink to wash themselves.

"I'm going to check on Ginny." She stood up and left the trio sitting awkwardly around the table.

For a moment, none of them spoke. Ron and Hermione looked at each other nervously. Ron opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. After a few attempts, he closed his mouth and looked at Hermione expectantly.

"Har – Harry?" Hermione's voice was higher than usual. "We - Ron and I… Ron and I have something to tell you."

Harry was surprised at the suddenly shade of red that crept onto her cheek. He was even more surprised that Ron and Hermione linked their hands.

"You are really clueless aren't you, mate?" Ron made a brave attempt to speak. "We are going out."

He said this quickly in a small voice and joined Hermione to look at him expectantly, wincing as if expecting him to explode. Harry stared at them open-mouthed for a moment, then surprised them both by bursting out laughing.

"That is wonderful." Harry said breathlessly. "All that fuss about Victor Krum. I thought of making you two kiss and make up, now I don't even have to bother."

It's Ron and Hermione's turn to gape at him.

"So? What are you waiting for?" Harry grinned at them. "Declare your love to each other".

Ron blushed and Hermione kicked him under the table, but they were both smiling shyly. Then their face turned serious again.

"Harry, this is not the only thing I want to talk to you about." Ron's face was grim, even hard. "You've been avoiding talking to us since you got here and locking yourself in your room. It's just not like you. We want you to know something. None of us, and that includes me, Hermione and Ginny, blame you for what happened in the department of mystery."

Hermione nodded earnestly. "And Harry, if you are avoiding us because you want to protect us… well, you know what I'm talking about. You can give up."

"We are not leaving you," said Ron.

"Never. It's our choice. We've been with you since your saved the Philosopher's Stone, and we will be with you when you fight Voldemort," Hermione said passionately.

"If you're worried about us distracting you," continued Ron. "Well, don't. We're not stupid. We're not going to interfere when you fight You-know-who, and we can handle ourselves."

Harry smiled at them, his throat tight for the countless time that summer. It's just what he needed, unquestioning loyalty and love from his closest friends. But he still couldn't bring himself to tell them the prophecy. They have courage, but courage alone was not enough in a war. Furthermore, they won't stand a chance when Voldemort comes after them personally, which he knew would happen for sure if he didn't severe ties with them.

Besides, seeing Ron and Hermione's linked hands, he tried to suppress another painful feeling.

He had never felt so alone.

Ginny was out of her 'unprovoked' depression next morning, but she avoided looking at Harry in the eye. She tagged behind Hermione all the time, and when Harry tried to catch her alone, she always found excuse to leave. She talked to him normally, but the tension and fear were still there.

"So, has Ronny and Hermione described to you the juicy details of their love life yet?" Ginny said to Harry after breakfast, peering mischievously at Hermione's blushing face just for the sake of not looking at Harry in the eye.

The teenagers were sitting in the attic with Buckbeak. The hippogriff was particularly pleased to see Ginny. He bowed to her deeply and stuffed a feathery neck under her hands. Harry's stomach clenched again seeing Ginny's surprised and slight pink face. Ron and Hermione spent the morning told Harry about the twin's success with their joke shop, while Ginny surveyed them with an ironic grin on her face.

"Honestly, do you two really get much work done? I though Gred and Forge had to dig you two out from a dark corner because you almost suffocated, you know, with your lips stuck together and all…" She teased. "And you need to watch him, Hermione, he's got all that muscle built up from all those manual work. Girls in Hogwarts will kill to see him naked."

Ron smiled at his girlfriend with a dreamy expression on his face. Hermione, however, glared at Ginny, her lips slowly curving into an evil grin.

"Of course Ginny you don't really know what's going on in the shop." She whispered slyly. "Because you would rather spend your days writing love letters to certain lucky DEEEAAAAAN."

Now it's Ginny's turn to blush as she thought of more witty remarks. Harry looked at them with an amused expression, although there is a carefully hidden frown at the mention of Thomas Dean, his classmate who has obvious became Ginny's new boyfriend over the summer. Ron, seeing a full-scale war is about to break out between his sister and his girlfriend, interrupted by giving Hermione a deep kiss.

"Err…"Ginny looked at them interestedly. "Why don't you two get a room?"

"So that you can have some time with Harry?" responded Hermione, pushing Ron away gently. "Isn't one boyfriend enough for you?"

Harry was feeling uncomfortable with every passing minute, not because of the mention of his name, but because of some uneasy feeling detected by his inner sense. _Close your mind_. A thought jumped at him. _Close your mind._

Harry hesitated. The bickering was still going on next to him. Buckbeak drifted next to him and peered at him with interest. The Hippogriff detected his discomfort. The urgency to close his mind became stronger and stronger. By now his entire soul was pressing him to set up a mental barrier. _Against what? _Harry didn't have time to think. Instinctively, he listened to his senses and did what he was told.

The world was deathly quiet for a moment. Next to him, Hermione and Ginny were both giggling, while Ron looked embarrassed about something. Then everything turned to slow motion. Ron was bending over slowly, hiding his head between his hands. Hermione blushed deeply, giggling silently. Ginny turning her head smugly, then alarm rushed into her features, her mouth forming a silent "_Haaarrry_"…

Then everything went black. Gone was the giggling, gone was Ron's silly, embarrassed gesture, gone was Buckbeak's bright yellow eyes showing concern in his own way.

Harry was no longer himself ...

Far from London, above the sea, to normal muggle eyes there seemed to be a stirring in the air. The sky shimmered and darkened, as if covered by a black mist. The mist writhed and shuddered as if trying to contain a powerful shape within it. After a few moments, the writhing stopped, and dark mist faded. The air returned to normal.

Concealed by the fading dark mist was the Prison of Azkaban, protected by so many ancient muggle-repelling spells. In the center of the fortress, a throne was set up. Upon the throne sat Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort stared at a crouched form before him lazily, twirling a wand in his hand.

The castle almost vibrated as anger pulsed behind his eyes.

"You remember me, don't you?" his voice was a whisper, chilling as the December wind. The crimson eyes burned in the dark.

"Ye –yes my Lord." The dark form muttered as if forgotten how to speak. "Forgiv-give me my Lord, I have been delayed in returning to you."

The wand stopped spinning in those spider-like hands.

"Delayed? From what? Running away from me?" Voldemort laughed. A cruel, cheerless laughter vibrated in the air. "Kakaroff, dear Kakaroff, do you think I'm stupid? I could crush you with a move of my finger. Should I remind you why so many faithful Death Eaters were lost last time? Yes, Kakaroff, they were lost so that you, can save your own pathetic skin."

Voldemort stood up and paced towards him.

"Very well, there is only one punishment I can think of for you." The red eyes glinted. "Ah, don't worry, it would be boring to simply kill you, but nor will I take away the gift of death. After all, you have served me well once, have you not? _Exsanguis_!"

Kakaroff collapsed onto the floor, whimpering, bracing himself for whatever pain to come. But there was not pain. He looked around in confusion.

Voldemort continued pacing.

"Feel it, old friend. Feel it. Your life is sipping away, drip by drip. This is what death feels like, is it not?" The slit-shaped pupils widened in excitement. "It will be slow. You will struggle on the verge of life and death. Each struggle pushes you closer to the end, and there is no escape."

Kakaroff continued to crawl around like an agitated guinea pig. Suddenly, his vision was blocked by red. Hot liquid gurgled up his throat, his ears, his nostrils and squeezed through his eyes.

Blood.

He screamed, choking on his own blood and coughing out more. He struggled blindly, a small pool of sluggish blood collected below him. He shuddered and collapsed, breathing coarsely, coughing, choking, desperate tears mixed into the red pool. Eventually, his breathing slowed, his twitching stopped and his eyes stared unseeingly.

A large snaked approached silently, tasting the scene in the air. It twisted sinuously around its master's feet, begging.

"Feast well, my dear."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven **

**Birthday Boy **

_Harry laughed._

_His eyes narrowed with anunnatural laughter, his laughter was saturated by an inhuman glee. He tried to stop the merriment that didn't belong to him but couldn't. Part of him enjoyed what he had just seen as much as the other part despised it. He felt sick and content allat the same time._

_He was still laughing ten minutes later when Ron stuffed him forcefully into his bed._

"And that's what happened, Sir," said Hermione anxiously. "He was listening to us at first but then his expressions became – sort of distant."

Ron nodded grimly next to her. "Yeah, and then he started laughing non-stop for twenty minutes. He wasn't holding his scar in pain of anything, but the scar was burning red. And he was choking before Hermione stunned him."

Albus Dumbledore silenced them with a gentleshake of his head. He looked at Harry's unconscious form before him. His breathing was still too deep to be normal and his face was pale with a slight shade of purple. The boy looked so frail, so helpless, and so alone.

"I understand. I believe he was having a another vision concerning Voldemort, and he laughed because Voldemort was happy," said Dumbledore in a coarse whisper. "But I dothink he will be fine after a deep sleep. We should leave him alone."

Ginny made no movement to move. She was staring at Harry's face, which was marked by a slight frown. The other two gestured her to get up.

"Ah. I believe a person should stay with him in case he wakes up," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.Somelife returned to his features."Would you care to do that, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny nodded her head absently, her eyes never leaving Harry's face. Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and whispered, "let's go" and followed Dumbledore out of the room.

The bedroom was quiet except for Harry's breathing, which had returned to normal. Golden sunlight cast a shadow upon histroubled face. Ginny shifted slightly in her chair.

This wasn't the Harry Pottershe remembered. This wasn't the brave, selfless, gentle, understanding Harry Potter she knew and heard so much about. He'd been cold and distant lately, and now he looked so vulnerable, so tired.

Maybe, she then thought, maybe this is Harry lying on the bed, instead Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. May this this was who he was beneath all the pressure that was put on him.

_He's so like Tom._ She realized. _This was how Tom looked like when he was ill in the orphanage. Both orphans, and in some ways, both had never been loved._

_And both powerful wizards, too,_ She thought. _Both have extraordinary potentials, except that Tom Riddle chose toabuse his. _

She could only hope that Harry would choose the right path in the days ahead.

The rest of the holidays passed like a blur to Harry.

He woke up the day after the vision feeling physically refreshed but still mentally drained.

"It's nothing to worry about, Harry," Dumbledore said when Harry told him what he saw. "I understand that you have been trained well in the ancient Chinese art of Shadow Boxing, which also helps to keep your mind at peace. You can block out Voldemort now, but he couldn't block out you. That explains why you were able to look through his eyes without much pain. Please understand Harry, nothing can stop the link between your scar and Voldemort, but the important thing is that Voldemort can no longer sense your presence in his mind."

Dumbledore studied his thumbs as he continued to speak.

"After being forced out of you by a force he resents so much last year, I doubt whether Voldemort will attempt to enter your mind again. So don't worry, Harry."

But Harry was sure that behind the veneeroptimistic words there was concealment if not deception. He respected the old man, yes, but he could no longer trust Dumbledore like he used to. Not after being kept in the dark for a whole summer last year, not after the death of Sirius.

For the rest of the holiday, he avoided talking to his friends about the vision. In fact, he avoided talking to his friends about anything if possible. When they were together he listened rather than spoke. After the vision he was even more convinced that Voldemort would take pleasure in torturing his friends. Then there was that spell he used in the vision - how could Harry be sure that Voldemort wouldn't use the samehorrid curseon Hermione or Ron or Ginny? They might be prepared to follow him into fire or water, but he was not, and the only solution to that is distance, not physical, but mental aloofness, so Voldemort could never sense how much they meant to him.

Ron was not pleased with this development, he often looked as if he wanted to talk, but Hermione silenced him with a glance. She gave Harry this I-know-how-you-feel act that would have normally made him feel irritated, but he was beyond caring now. She didn't know how he felt, or she wouldn't have put on that pitying face. In fact, the only person who _seemed_ to understand was Ginny.

Ginny hasn't spoken to him very much since the Snape incident. She ignored him as much as he distanced himself from her. This made it so much easier for Harry not to think of her hair, her eyes, her freckled nose, and the scent of lily around her. He still remembered waking up after the vision to see Ginny's face buried in her hands next to his bed.

So Harry passed day after day practicing mind magic and sleeping. When he wasn't doing these two things he sat in the attic and read the books Silvia left him. Silvia visited once a week to check on his progress, but even shewas coldlydistant. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were usually with him. Some times when Ron and Hermione were off making out, Ginny stayed with him because she "wanted to be with Buckbeak". The two of them would sit silently on either side of the Hippogriff, not speaking much. The silence became most taxing after awhile, but it suited his vow of solitude just fine.

As Ginny promised, they had a birthday party for Harry on the eve of September the first. It was a boisterous but slightly emptyoccasion, but Harry wasn't enjoying him as much as he could. Every now and then he glanced cautiously at the windows and doors of the kitchen, as if waiting to be attacked. Everything seemed ethereal, as ifthey would disappear within moments.Silvia seemed to know what he was thinking, because after twenty minutes of Harry's brooding she pulled him into a corner.

"We doubled the security. Now the house is protected by Dumbledore's spells as well as Order guards, so enjoy the party," She told him quietly and then smiled, "if that doesn't satisfy you, I can tell you that I've also added another of my favorite shield charm. Don't tell me you don't even trust _my_ shield charms. Dumbledore has been trying for months but he still can't take his favorite teacup out of the box I locked it in."

"Thanks." Harry smiled at her. "Let's get back to the party."

The dinner table was split into smaller ones that scattered around in the corners of the room where people drifted around holding their drinks like in a cocktail party. On the ceiling Mrs Weasley hanged scarlet posters read read:

**HAPPY 16TH BIRTHDAY, HARRY**

Occasionally other Order members, including Professor McGonagall,waltzed intothe room for drinks and to shake Harry's hand. Remus, Tonks, Moody, Kingsley and Mrs Weasley were the only adults who stayed until the party finished. Harry barely noticed them though. The teenagers sat in a corner, absorbed in a world of their own.

"Ron, let' s have a dance." Hermione said, giggling.

"No way. My mum is here!" Said Ron, slightly alarmed as he took a gulp of his Butterbeer.

"Ron, let _us_ have a dance," Hermione said more firmly, tilting her head towards Harry and Ginny, a gesture ofsome apparent secret significance.

"OOOOh, of course. Let's dance, Mione."

"Yes, so very subtle, Hermy... let Ronny and Hermy have their dancy," Fred teased, "George and I have more creative ways to spend our time. There is a letter we need to send, so excuse us for half an hour during which you'll be free to do _whatever_ you want without you noble chaperons."

Fred dragged George towards the stairs as Hermione dragged Ron to the dance floor. Harry and Ginny looked at each other awkwardly for a minute, then both laughed.

"This is stupid," Ginny said, while Harry nodded in agreement, "we've know each other for 6 years, we can spent ten minutes alone together."

Harry still had no clue what he could say to Ginny, so he took a large gulp of Butterbeer instead and ended up choking on it.

"Looking forwards to school Harry?" Ginny made the first attempt to begin a conversation as she knocked on his back lightly.

"Yeah, I miss Hogwarts," said Harry quietly. "But I miss Quidditch even more."

Suddenly a question that had beentroubling him for weeks burst out before he could control it.

"Why did you run out of the kitchen the day I scared off Snape?" Harry blurted out.

Ginny looked surprised.

"Well. That day ...let's just say when you scared the piss out of old Snape, your expression reminded me of someone I don't want to remember." Ginny frowned lightly, but not out of annoyance.

"Oh ..." Harry mummered, lost.

The two fell silent again as they looked at each other. A slow song was playing in the Wireless. Music swirled around them like magic. Finally, Ginny stood up to face Harry.

"Shall we have a dance then?" She said with a wicked grin and a faint blush.

"I suck at dancing," Harry panicked for some reason, "you saw me with Parvati during the Yule Ball and…"

"I'm not Parvati, Harry." Ginny's voice was sweetly serious as she held out her hand. "Come on. It's your party, let me help you to enjoy it."

"Alright then." Harry stood up, feeling nervous.

It was a slow dance. Harry held himself at a decent distance from Ginny, staring uncertainly at a point over her shoulder. He felt awkward as if his shoes are too big for his feet. But Ginny was right about one thing, dancing with her _was_ different to dancing with Parvati. Parvati never had the faint smell of lily; Parvati never made his heart swell and pace up with nervousnesseach time theirbodies brushed againsteach other; Parvati never made his throat dry when her hair tickled his face ... Finally, Harry gathered enough courage to look into her eyes.

Ginny's eyes held a mixture of confusion, shyness and joy. A faint blush hung on to her cheeks, and her breathing was shallow and fast.

From another corner, Hermione surveyed the dancing figures of Harry and Ginny.

"You are a genius planner, Ronald Weasley." She breathed, making Ron blush.

"It's so obvious. They are completely lost in each other." Said Ron in a matter of fact way. "Why she's still going out with that Dean is just beyond me."

Hermione sighed in resignation.

"Ronald ... this whole plan is amazing, but you still have a _lot_ to learn. It's her self-esteem, but girls' mentality is obviously too complicated for you, so I will leave it like that. Just remember: She did have a silly crush on him years ago, a fact your lovely brothers didn't really miss."

Ron gave her a lop-sided grin.

"Alright then, girls' mentality is beyond me, and now's as good a time as any to learn." He looked into her eyes with open affection. "Shall I start with thissexy woman before me then?"

"You arepretty sexyourself, Ronald."

The party went on until midnight. When the clock struck midnight, Harry was pushed towards a mass of package piled on a table.

Harry stared at the pile of presents before him open-mouthed.

"All these – these are my presents?" He asked breathlessly.

"Yeah, open them, mate." Encouraged Ron while Harry reached out a trembling hand.

Ron had given him a book called"The SeekerThat MadeHistory." Hermione surprised him by not giving him a book, instead, he found in her package a pair of grayish-purple gloves.

"What are these?" Asked Ron in a disgusted voice. "It's summer, Hermione!"

"Duh…" Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "These are not normal gloves, if certain people could just open their eyes and look. I found them in a _muggle_ junk shop, if you could believe that! The old muggle obvious didn't realize what it was, because he could have sold that for ten thousands times more than the price he offered."

She took out the gloves and pulled Harry's hand towards her.

"It's made of Graphorn hide, I read about it." Hermione explained as she forced the gloves onto Harry's hands. "Graphorn hide is tougher than dragon skin and repel most known aggressive spells. It also intensifies magic, so I thought it would be suitable for Harry, given what he's been learning. Theoretically speaking, these should replace your wands."

The gloves stuck to Harry's hand like a layer of thick, dead skin. For a while it remained there looking out of place in his summer shirt and shorts. Then, they shimmered and disappeared as if he never wore it.

"Any material made from Graphorn hide becomes almost as an extension of the skin when you wear it." Hermione said, seeing the perplexed expression on other people's face. "It allows water and air through but if someone uses an axe to chop at your hand, it won't even leave a mark. The gloves also absorb spells, so you can charge it with spells and shoot them off anytime you want without saying the incantations, but I don't know how it's done."

Harry studied his hands carefully. He felt only the faintest pressure on his hands and got used to that feeling very quickly.

"Thanks Hermione." He smiled at her gratefully.

Silvia's presents were even stranger. Her box contained a pair of tiny, transparent glasses that dangled dangerously on the ridge of his nose.

"They are magical glasses. I made them myself." She blushed. "I don't really have money to buy anything like that glove. Anyway, you put the glasses on and they will adjust themselves to suit your eyesight, then they will attach to your eyes so that you can't even see them. A bit like magical contact lens, but safer because they never break."

Harry took off his old pair of glasses and put on the new one. The world remained blurred for a moment and immediately focused. It felt a little strange without the usual weight on his nose.

"Wow, you look nice without glasses Harry," said Silvia, her voice a little high pitched.

Harry smiled and gave her a hug: "thanks."

The twins gave him their newest product from their joke shop.

"The first pair." Said Fred.

"We made." Finished George.

"It's an animated toy spider." Said Fred, holding out a hairy ball about the size of his thumb.

"And you can animate it by voice. The present password is: Go Bug Ron. Like this," chimed George, receiving a glare from his younger brother. He placed the little spider on Harry's shoulder where it uncurled itself and crouched there.

"It does loads of things: eavesdrop, steal small things, scare Ronny, carry messages,scare Ronny alitte more.Anyway even Gred and I haven't discovered the full extent of its ability, so write a report to us when you manage to put into _mischief_."

"And you can see through its eyes with this," said George, handing Harry a pair of equally hairy glasses. "Sorry about the fur, but we really didn't have time to come up with something stylish."

Harry grinned at them. He didn't need polyjuice potion to sneak into the Slytherin common room now. The twins were right, there_was_ a lot of thing this little cutie could do.

The rest of his presents were mostly books from order members. Most of them were Defense Against the Dark Arts books, but Dumbledore gave him a book of ancient spells and an "Ancient Rune Translator" to help him understand the ancient spells better. Harry raised an eyebrow. He had a roughidea of what kind of spells were recorded in this book, andhe was sure the headmaster did too. He was grateful, but very surprised that Dumbledore would give him a bookwhich potentially recorded the most dangerous dark spells in existence.

Finally, after an hour of handshaks and hugs, there was only one little package left on the table. Harry opened it and inside there was an amulet. The amulet was shaped like a basilisk with its mouth open. In its open mouth the basilisk held a perfectly oval shaped quartz. Not difficult to guess whom it was from.

"Thanks Ginny." Harry whispered as he put it on. "It's beautiful."

"It's supposed to protect you." Ginny gave him a small smile. "I don't know how it works, but the seller told me that it's supposed to protect whoever wearing it."

Mrs Weasley yawned.

"Oh, it's one o'clock." She said, looking at a clock. "Harry, take your presents. You people should go to bed. Tomorrow you are going back to school."

Harry picked up an armload of books, the little spider resting on his shoulder like a model pet. For some reason, Hermione's glove made his arm feel more powerful.

"And boys," called Mrs. Weasley after them in exasperation. "Could you please pack your trunks before you sleep?"

* * *

Reviews: Thank you for your support guys!

doomsday machine: Thanks for all that reviews! Yes, it was creepy. A guy I know likes blood... he gets turned on by them. I think he'd haveliked it.

greendragon50691: Thank you, I will.

Sweetie813: lol ... a lot of satisfied fans i suppose...


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: **

**Return to Hogwarts **

Harry slept well last night. His mother drifted in and out of his dream, her soothing face changing into Ginny's. He looked 9 years old while Ron and Hermione married andhad twins that looked like Fred and George. Then the dream swirled and settled into Sirius's smiling face, waving at him as he stepped into the veil, which wasblazing with light rather than woven with gloom. He awoke smiling to find Ron shaking his shoulders.

"Some people are in a good mood!" Ron said with raised eyebrows. "C'mon,you don't want tomiss the train. I've already dressed."

The house was buzzing with activity. Fred and George Apparated in and out of rooms bewitching trunks to fly downstairs; Ginny bustled around looking for a pair of socks; Mrs Weasley shouted at the top of her voice, telling them to hurry.

Just as Harry was about to put a shirt own, Ginny burst into his room.

"Mum wants you to hurry up. Everybody's eating breakfast now," Ginny panted and then raised an eyebrow, "and don't _you _look nice."

Harry glanced down at his chest, which was pale but firmed after years of Quidditch practice and amonth of physical training. He was nowhere near as bulky as Silvia wanted, but he looked good.

"Tell them I'm coming."

Harry stepped into the kitchen twenty seconds later and found that it was practically crammed with a small army.

"What the –" He was at a loss of words, seeing half of the Order of the Phoenix cramped at the table.

"Wotcher Harry, long time no see. We are your guards," said Tonks, under the disguise of a young woman with round face and bright pink hair, as she greeted him with a warm hug. "We are here because according to_somebody_, this could be our last breakfast."

She rolled her eyes at Moody, who impatiently waved his magical eyeball in the air.

"Can't let down our guard, I'm not taking chances, so enjoy your breakfast while you can" he said as he squeezed the eyeball back into its socket.

After twenty minutes, they were finally ready to go, but not without Moody breathing hotly down their necks with depressive words first.

"Remember, if any of us dies…" Moody grumbled.

Tonks shock her head resignedly and wrenched open the front door. Two order members stepped out surreptitiously, slashing their wand about as if trying to hit some non-existent spy-fly.

"Ok _Ok_ , the house is _not_ under watch, how many goddamn times to I have to tell you!" Tonks whispered exasperatedly. "If we don't hurry up we will miss the bloody train!"

Last year, as Harry remembered, it took them twenty minutes to get to King's Cross. This year it took them more than forty. For every few steps they take, Moody and some other Order members would look around suspiciously, wands hidden beneath their sleeves.

"I wanted to borrow a ministry car," Mr Weasley said quietly to Harry. "But Mad Eye objected because he was afraid that Death Eaters could simply bomb it and we'll all die without a chance to fight."

He chuckled quietly,but Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. Other people's lives were disrupted because of him. He wasn't sure how his friends felt about his, and wasn't really keen in asking.

Once inside the station, the group split into pairs and lingered casually beside the barrier of platform nine and ten. Moody and Kingsley entered first and came back to report that the coast was clear. Silvia and Harry then drifted through on to the platform nine and three-quarters, where the Hogwarts Express stood ejecting steam over swarms of students and parents. The familiar smell, the blood red train, everything was as he remembered. Except one thing-

Circling the train on broomsticks, were Aurors.

Harry was angry. All these security was probably established for him, the famous Potter. His agitation must have shown on his face because an instant later, Silvia was dragging him away from the crowd.

"Listen Harry, the security around the train is_not _set up for you. It was simply a measure that has to be taken with Voldemort back," She said in a husky voice. "Voldemort's bound to attack Hogwarts sooner or later, so you just do your part to stay alive."

Harry nodded dumbly, not really taking anything in. Silvia sighed.

"Go now," she pressed him on the back with a hand. "And I will see you sooner than you expect."

Harry walked towards the train, feeling his spirits soar despite the strange guilty feeling - he was going home.

"Hi Harry, where are your glasses? And hi Ron," called a tall boy with dreadlocks. "How're the twins doing?"

"Great," Ron called back, while Harry was glancing around him, devouring every scene. People walked past him, some giving him friendly nods, some said hi, but he couldn't help noticing that a lot of the students (and parents) evaded his eyes, some even shifted to distant him/herself from Harry.

"Is it just me," Harry whispered harshly to Ron and Hermione, who were holding hands, "or are all these people really avoiding me?"

"Er ... " Ron seemed to hesitate. "We didn't tell you this because you had enough to deal with. An article came out after the Diagon Ally attack. Whoever this journalist was, he certainly adapted Rita Skeeter's view."

"What? As in I'm a attention seeking, delusional show off?" Harry frowned.

"Well ...not exactly. He said that you shouldn't be allowed to go to Hogwarts because you will attract Death Eaters' attention and people should stay away from you because your friends are likely targets." Ron said this really fast, as if trying to make it less painful for Harry by doing so.

Harry knew perfectly well that "people" meant those like Ron and Hermione. Angry as he was, he also knew in his heart that this man was right. His friends _were_likely targets for Death Eaters.

"Remember, if Potter gets attacked…" Moody hissed at them as they boarded the train.

The teenagersentered the train, ignoring Moody's paranoid warnings. Seconds later, they were sitting in an isolated compartment at the end of the carriage. Ron and Hermione stood up awkwardly.

"Go. I will get you something when the food trolley arrives," Harry said before they opened their mouth. Prefects have to meet in their own private compartment.

Ron nodded while Hermione seemed to hesitate.

"Harry, you do know that we would rather stay with you," said Hermione nervously. "Don't you?"

"Yeah, I understand," Harry nodded absently, staring out the window. "Just go."

Ron and Hermione left, dragging their trunk behind them. Pigwidgeon hooted excitedly in his cage. Ginny was off somewhere to find Dean, leaving Harry alone, lost in thoughts.

He knew that half of the school felt uncomfortable with his presence. They feel threatened, maybe even alarmed. Harry agreed with them. After all those encounters with Voldemort, Harry understood him well enough to know that he would be hunting for him. With the mental link severed, Voldemort will resort to pure violence. Hogwarts had been the safest place on earth. But with Voldemort back, very much alive, is it _still_?

Suddenly, the door of the compartment opened, and a group of people rushed in. There was Ginny, closely followed by Dean, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, Katie Bell, Ernie Macmillan, Creevey brothers, Cho Chang and Luna who looked as if she was sleepwalking ... , the entire DA was there, and as expected, it was Ernie who spoke first. There was no pleasant greetings. Everyone looked surprisingly business-like.

"Hi Harry," he said formally with a deeper voice than Harry remembered. "We," he gestured around the small crowed squeezed at the door, "were wondering whether you will continue DA this year."

Harry had feared this moment as soon as he saw these people. After the death of Sirius, there was no way he could continue to lead this group of talented witch and wizards. He could no longer trust his own judgement.

"I expect you guys to know what happened at the end of last year," He said quietly.

The atmosphere tensed as if the group had expected this. After a moment of silence, they mummered "yes".

"In that case you also know that I have almost led five members of this club to their death, and that my misjudgment hascaused to the death of the onlyperson close to a father I ever had." Harry's throat was tight.

This time, his statement was met with silence. Uneasy glances were exchanged, but no one said anything.

"I think that is enough answer to your question, Ernie," Harry turned his head to the window again. "Continue the DA if you wish, just choose another leader. I won't be joining you anymore."

The group waited in silence. Finally, and to Harry's surprise, Ginny stepped into the Compartment and sat opposite him.

"Can you guys give us a minute?" she said to the group. "I have something to say to him."

DA members nodded and left to guard the area like bodyguards. Reluctantly, Dean followed them.

For a few seconds, Harry continued to look out at the moving landform, and Ginny continued to look at him.

"I still have nightmares, Harry," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "I dream about what happened last year. I can still remember her voice, _let him watch while we torture the little girl, I will do it._ "

She had Harry's attention now. He stared at her intently while she looked at the darkening sky that signalledthe approach of a storm.

"You were right. We _could_ have died there," She looked back at Harry, holding his gaze. "But why didn't we? Neville and Luna - they are my best friends by the way - weren't the best duelers in DA. And me, I'm no use either. But how did we survive, and knocking out so many Death Eaters in the process?"

Harry didn't speak. He looked into her deep brown eyes and saw nothing there but complete trust.

"Because of _you_, Harry," she said simply. "You taught us. I owe you my life twice."

The two sat quietly, neither of them moved or averted their eyes.

"I can't do it Ginny," whispered Harry in a forlorn voice. "Not after Sirius… I can't trust myself anymore."

The train rattled onwards. It began to rain. Fat drops of rainwater splattered onto the window, leaving hundreds of gray splash marks that soon became lost in a shower of water. The ominously grey clouds rolled above them, flashes of lightning burned in the sky. The sky thundered, and the windows vibrated in response. The compartment was quiet except for Harry's rushed breathing, Ginny's peaceful one, and the rhythmical beat of the train mingled with the sound of rain in the background. Finally, Ginny spoke again.

"I have faith in you."

She stood up and left, leaving Harry to stare after her.

"So you will continue DA?" Hermione asked after Harry recounted what just happened (missing out what Ginny said).

Harry said nothing as he continued to stare at the storm outside. After a while, he nodded.

"That's great, mate!" shouted Ron cheerfully. "I mean, with You-know-who back, having an expert to teach us would only do us good. If you get me."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah, and I wonder who's going to be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts this year," Hermione sounded nervous. "Mind you, the Educational Degrees approved by the minister still apply, that means if Dumbledore can't find anyone, we could get another ministry moron like that bitch Umbridge."

Both Harry and Ron stared at her.

"Hermione!" they chorused in unison. "Since when do you speak like that?"

Hermione laughed a throaty, un-hermione-like laugh.

"I did spend 6 years with you guys," she huddled against Ron. Crookshanks glared at him jealously and jumped into Harry's lap."Blame yourself for bad influence."

Harry smiled, feeling happy for both of them. _They look s right together,_ He thought. Crookshanks scratched his legs for attention. Just looking atRon and Hermionegave him a sense of purpose. He made a silent vow to keep them safe. They were his friends, his family now, and no matter what happens, nothing will tear them apart.

BANG!

The door of the compartment suddenly burst open.

_"STUPEFY!"_

Harry turned around just in timeto see a flash of red light flying towards his direction. He raised his a hand to summon a shield like Silvia taught him, but reacted fractions of a seconds too late. As if in slow motion, Harry watched the jet of red light soared straight towards his chest –

And missed. As if attracted by an invisible magnet, the stunning spell changed direction in mid air and hit his hands. His hands glowed for a few seconds before returning to normal. Hermione's lovely gloves worked.

Draco Malfoy was standing by the compartment door, smirking. The grin was wiped out instantly when he discovered that Harry was unaffected by his spell. The pale, thin lips curved downwards as he scowled.

"_POTTER!_" he whispered fiercely.

"Nice to see you too Draco," harry said with raised eyebrows. "Nice aim by the way. Been practicing?"

And he wasn't really being sarcastic. It _was_ nice aim – the spell almost hit him.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. Crabbe and Goyle took a threatening step forwards before being interrupted by a deep voice.

"Watch your steps."

Ron finally realized what had happened. He rose up from his seat and towered towards Crabbe and Goyle, who gulped – Ron had become taller than them, his work-hardened muscles visible from the battered T-shirt he was wearing. The gangly features were now hard to miss.

Seeing his cronies hesitating, Malfoy stepped forward and brushed them aside impatiently.

"A warning, Potter" he said in a coldly confident way after glancing at Ron in disdain. "You got lucky, that's all. But you won't be lucky always. Sooner of later this year I'll get you. Don't underestimate me."

He turned around and swept out of the compartment. Sniggering, Crabbe and Goyle gave the trio malicious looks and followed after. Ron slammed the compartment door shut behind them and turned to look at Harry questioningly.

"I thought that spell hit you," he said. "So how come you're not out cold?"

"Are you wearing that glove I gave you?" Hermione interrupted.

"Yeah," Harry studied his hands. As he gazed down at it, the outline of the glove was faintly visible. "It was the gloves alright. I felt it."

"Ah," Hermione nodded knowingly. "That's what Graphorn gloves are supposed to do, absorb curses. And if the curse is too powerful, it will deflect it instead. Malfoy wasn't putting much force into that Stunner, but then again, I think he's simply not strong enough."

Ron whistled. Harry muttered "thanks Hermione" as he studied his gloves.

The rest of the journey went on uneventfully. Neville and Luna entered halfway through it. Luna sat down and begun reading _The Quibbler _without saying anything, Neville told them about his Mimbulus mimbletonia.

"It's almost as big as me now," he said happily. "And it recognizes me as well. Pity I can't bring it to Hogwarts. I got photos for Professor Sprout though."

The weather worsened as they travelled further and further north. Rain spattered the windows mercilessly, blurring distant landforms. Occasional thunders struck so loud that the windows shuddered and Crookshanks jumped in fright.

At last, the train began to slow down. Everybody scrambled up to sort out their luggage and pets. Ron and Hermione disappeared again from the carriage to supervise people getting off. Harry disembarked alone with Neville and Luna, the cages of Hedwig and Pigwidgeon hovering in mid-air before him. Hedwig glared at him balefully with her large, amber eyes, apparently not happy with this treatment.

As soon as they shuffled out of the compartment, rainwater poured onto them relentlessly. Harry secretly cast a charm to summon an invisible shield that stuck to his body like raincoat. It was one of those simple ones Silvia taught him, and extremely useful. Neville and Luna weren't so lucky. They shivered in the rain, screwing up their eyes against the wind. Above the racket of students who werefighting over thenearest no-longer-horseless carriages (not horses, but a more skeletal version with wings), a thunder-like rumbling can be heard.

"firs'-years over'ere ... c'mon, you lot ... mind yer steps"

"Hi Hagrid!" Harry shouted over the noise.

"Alright, 'arry?" Hagrid shouted back, waving. "See yer soon."

Ginny joined them as Neville and Luna climbed into a carriage. Harry stepped aside to let her in first. She held onto him for support in the wind as if it was the most natural thing in the world, the smallest skin contact sending shivers down his spine.

"Aren't you staying with Dean?" Harry asked as he held Ginny's hand.

"No," she said shortly, suddenly withdrawing her hand and climbed into the carriage, giving him a strange look.

Ron and Hermione caught up with them just in time. Soon the six of them were squeezed in the little carriage tumbling into the gloom.

The journey was extremely uncomfortable, or at least it was for the other five. Harry was warm and dry within his private Shield, but from the look of the others, being squashed by four cold, muddy bodies was not a pleasant feeling. Harry shifted to give the others more space; he looked up and found Ginny staring at him. Her eyes showeda myriademotions that made Harry feel totally confused. Her behavior towards him since his arrival at Grimauld's place had been a complete mystery to him. Looking into her eyes didn't give him the answer he was looking for.

The carriages rattled and swayed as they moved in convoy up the road, traveling sluggishly towards Hogwarts castle. The rain created a nimbus like effect, blurring countless candlelights visible from windows. It was a breathtaking scene – a gigantic structure coated by what seemed to be shrouds of glowing mist. Finally, they passed between the cold stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the school gates and jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors.

Next to Harry, Ron breathed deeply.

"We are here."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine **

**The First Battle **

They got out of the carriage and stumbled up the stone steps in to the castle, shivering.

As usual, the Entrance Hall was bright with torches and echoing with watery footsteps as students trotted across the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall slowly filled up with students. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, creating a warm atmosphere that didn't really match the stormy ceiling. Here and there silvery ghosts dotted about the Hall, making whoever in the vicinity shiver. Students talked eagerly, exchanged summer news, shouted greetings at friends and the boys eyed girls who had 'grown' during the summer with interest. Harry noticed people turning away from him as he passed, some moved their chair further as if he was about to attack them. Harry shook his head in resignation and walked towards the furthest end of the Gryffindor table. Luna drifted dreamily away from the group to sit with the Ravenclaws. Ginny mumbled something about sitting with Dean, avoided Harry's eyes and left while Ron, Hermione and Neville followed Harry, ignoring everyone else who shot at Harry uneasy glances. Not all of them were unfriendly though, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown nodded at Harry and practically purred when Ron passed, making his ears to go red and Hermione to roll her eyes. Nearly Headless Nick drifted towards their end to give them a 'warm' greeting

Finally, Harry settled down and scanned the staff table quietly. What he saw was a pleasant surprise. Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the centre of the staff table, wore his usual colour, purple robes and a matching hat. He was deeply absorbed in conversation with Professor Snape, whose face was hovering next to Dumbledore's chair. Both of them looked very serious. On his other side, chatting happily with Professor Flitwick, was Silvia. She turned and smiled when Harry set his eyes upon her in surprise. She mouthed "hi" before turning back to Flitwick. Hagrid appeared behind the staff table and worked his way along to his usual seat, giving Harry a wave.

A few seconds later, the heavy doors of the Great Hall opened. A line of terrified-looking first-years entered, looking down with hunched shoulders like half-drowned chickens. Professor McGonagall placed a stool carefully in front of the Great Hall, and as the buzz of talk died away, she put an ancient wizard's hat upon it.

The Great Hall grew quiet as people waited expectantly. On the other side of the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione disentangled from each other. Then a rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat begun singing.

_Once upon a time of old,_

_Lived the founders, masters of lore._

_As time passed, as their power unfold,_

_They built a school never seen before._

_Our noble founders thought never to be parted,_

_As they strove for a common goal._

_Bound by friendship, bound by love,_

_Never once had unity departed._

_Yet how was it that such friendship fail?_

_The dark secret of which only I can tell._

_For Slytherin only taught those,_

_Whose ancestry is purest._

_And Gryffindor took those,_

_Whose heart is bravest._

_The smart Ravenclaw endeared,_

_Those whose brain is surest,_

_And gentle Hufflepuff took the rest,_

_Regardless to what they knew._

_It is for such reasons,_

_That different house existed,_

_It is for such reasons,_

_That harmony was finally lost._

_Never once before,_

_Had the houses been united,_

_Never once before,_

_Had bonds of trust rebuilt._

_Now hear me, as I warned before,_

_Exist I am to split you,_

_Divide you before you know,_

_But now peril befell Hogwarts,_

_Danger befell us all._

_We must unite inside,_

_Or we'll crumble from within._

_Yet again I tell you, yet again I warn you,_

_Unite, ere our end begin._

The Hat wobbled and became motionless; after a moment of surprise applause broke out, and around Harry, people begun to exchange whispers at once.

" ... Warned us to unite again, like last year ... "

"I always wondered how come the Hat knows so much ... "

Harry ignored the buzz of conversation around him and scanned the staff table again. Silvia was once more deep in conversation with Dumbledore, who turned the moment Harry set his gaze up him, and gave him a small nod and a smile. None of the teachers looked particularly light-hearted hearing the Sorting Hat's new song. Snape's lips curled as he glanced maliciously at Harry.

"So what do you think, Harry?" Hermione called from the other side of the table.

"Dunno. Same as last year isn't it?" Harry shrugged, turning his attention to Professor McGonagall, who gave the whispering students a scorching look.

The mummers died out instantly, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and begun to read names from a piece of parchment.

"Parker, Lucy."

A small girl stumbled forwards and put the Hat on her head. It fell right down to her shoulders. The Hat wobbled again and shouted:

"Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table erupted in applause. Harry clapped his hands absently with the rest as Lucy staggered to their table and sunk into a seat, revealing only a burning forehead.

The rest of the Sorting ceremony was lost on Harry. He had a queasy feeling in his stomach and an ominous buzz in his head. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, letting his mind wander to find the source of disruption.

On the other side, Ron's stomach gave a loud groan.

"Oh. Hurreeee uuup!" he moaned, placing Hermione's hand on his stomach.

"White, Anthony" was sorted into Slytherin with a burst of cheers from the other side of the Hall and jeers from the rest. Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and the stool and carried them away.

"Finally!" said Ron, gazing at his plates expectantly while Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry, but not saying anything.

Professor Dumbledore got up as usual. Knowing the reason why Dumbledore had ignored him last year, Harry wasn't bitter in any ways at this year's silence. In fact, Dumbledore's attention didn't mean so much to him now, nor was he shrilled at seeing him smiling brightly at the students.

Dumbledore spread his arms wide dramatically to speak. He opened his mouth, but before he spit out the first syllable of whatever he was about to say, his face tensed up. At his side Silvia sprang up in almost inhuman agility and took out her wand- something she rarely does. The other teachers looked at her in alarm, while Dumbledore frowned, and followed Silvia's gaze at the huge, wooden door.

For a moment, the entire Hall was silent as everybody gazed at the staff table in surprise and fear. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat warningly at Silvia, frowning with displeasure. Snape gazed intently at Dumbledore, whose eyes occasionally flickered towards the end of the Gryffindor table, trying to catch Harry's equally intense gaze. The only sound was the distant thunder rolling closer and closer. The ominous feeling that settled in Harry's stomach grew stronger. His body tensed up even though his mind didn't know what was about to happen.

The entire great hall held its breath, and suddenly,

BOOM ...

The huge wooden gate of the Great Hall trembled, a shower of wood and rock fell down like rain. Empty goblets and plates trembled slightly and people begun whispering in confusion.

BOOM ...

The doors gave a loud crash as the parts of the wood splintered, threatening to give way. Fear replaced the bewildered look on people's face. Dumbledore drew out his wand.

The knocking paused as if gathering strength. Time seemed suspended, people held their breath, and then the wooden doors of the Great Hall crashed into splinters. Dust swirled in all direction as four great shadows blocked the entrance of the Hall.

Giants.

But thatwasn't all, Harry realized as his mind blanked out.

_"Not Harry... Please not Harry ..." "Kill me now, Dumbledore ...If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy ... "_ distant voices whispered in his head like a badly tuned radio. 

Harry struggled to keep conscious, looking for happy thoughts but finding none. He registered dimly two dementors gliding into the Great Hall, and Dumbledore shouting something in a rumbling voice.

"_BANG"_ - the Dementors exploded in a shower of white fire. The hall fell once more into a dazed silence before all hell broke loose.

Silvia reacted instantly. Vaulting over the staff table, she sent a series of red lights forth towards the shadows. The stunning spells hit the leading figure and bounded off in all directions, landing on the walls with several "cracks". The leading Giant stepped into the hall, and everyone gasped, too surprised to run. The Giant rested a hand on his steel club, muscles rippling in corded bulges under the grey skin. He wore a shiny helmet; his body was wrapped in shiny red scale that looked alarmingly like dragon skin, spikes rose along the length of the skin that covered his spine. Hooked, yellow teeth slipped into view as he hissed in anticipation, and there was madness in his black eyes. Three more Giants stepped in after him, and were immediately followed by a dozen cloaked and hooded figures, Death Eaters.

Harry finally recovered. He looked around, seeing everything as if someone had slowed time. At the staff table, McGonagall, Flitwick and the other professors appeared frozen. Even Snape's mouth was hanging open. Some of the students screamed and tumbled from their seats trying to run, others simply were too shocked by the Dementor attack to move a muscle. Some of the students had managed to get to a relatively safe position near the stairs and were scrambling up but others were precariously close to the door.

Harry's mind worked furiously. The Death Eaters weren't much of a problem, knowing Dumbledore and Silvia's abilities. But the Giants … stunners from five or six adult wizards could stun a moderately sized Giant, but these Giants are twice as big as moderate and one of them wore dragon skin. Even if Harry trusted the teachers to deal with the Giants, there are still a dozen Death Eaters roaming free. Harry reached a conclusion – this was a tactical nightmare.

The suspended second passed. The Giants posed to charge, then they smashed into the Hall; Death Eaters followed, sending a rainbow of spells before them. Silvia sprang forward immediately and summoned a huge silver shield that covered the students who were fluttering in panic. The Stunners were deflected easily but the Giants smashed straight through it. The shield flickered and wavered. Apparently, such a huge shield drained too much energy. Dumbledore sent a strange spell Harry had never seen before that knocked a Death Eater to the other side of the room, the air around him glowing red with the impact of the spell.

By now, all the teachers reacted too as well as some older students and DA members. Several powerful stunning spells were exchanged.

But seconds later, they realized they've reacted a few seconds too late as a Giant reached the group of younger students.

He was the smaller one of the four. Apparently eager for some bloodshed, the Giant raised a heavy club and slammed it straight into a group of several third year boys. The boys jumped aside just in time to avoid the club, which embedded into the floor before being pulled out for another round.

Most of the Death Eaters were engaged in close combat with the teachers. Silvia had already turned to handle a giant on her own. She waved her wand and cried, "Impedimenta". The Giant slowed down dumbly. Blazing ropes of light shot out from the end of her wand and tied around the Giant, who had shrugged off the Impediment spell and begun struggling. Suddenly Hagrid sprang forward and picked up the club dropped by the giant.

"WACK", He smashed the heavy club straight into the Giant's face, splattering blood and the remains of a brain on the wall beyond.

Inspired, many students summoned ropes to fend off the smaller giant that begun chasing the running students. The ropes were not as strong as Silvia's and were ripped apart almost instantly, but it certainly had some effect, for the Giant tripped on the mass of ripped rope tied to his feet and smashed its head into a table, shattering it into pieces.

A number of spells were sent to it in an instant. But either the students were too weak or the 'small' giant was too strong. He shrugged off the spells like splashes of water and struggled up, large drops of blood splattered onto the remains of the table before him. For a moment the giant remained dazed, then fury overtook him. He stood up to his full height, let out an ear-shattering scream of hatred that rebounded off the walls of the Great Hall, then he made a mighty grab at the person who had just reached his side.

Bad luck for the giant, because the person happened to be Harry Potter.

The Giant was surprised that he missed. Somehow the tiny black-robed boy was faster than it was, slipping aside like a shadow of the night. The Giant's hand smashed into a knocked-over chair, splinters of wood penetrated the rough skin as the hand punched into floor with a sickening crack.

Whirling with scarcely a moment's pause, the it sprang at its pray for a second time. But already Harry's wand was extended and jets of light shot out from the tip.

_"Impedimenta Petrificus-Totalus Expelliarmus!"_ Harry jumped aside, shouted three spells in quick succession as he whipped out his wand. The disarming spell caused the giant's club to soar out of his hand towards Harry. Harry waved a hand and the club slowed down in midair and shot straight back at the giant, who struggled to throw off the body-bind spell. Then he noticed the heavy club crashing into his head - the last thing he saw.

"Two down, two to go," Harry mummered and glanced at the other side of the room. The Death Eaters were all out cold by now. The teachers were shooting stunners at the largest Giant of the four, while Dumbledore and Silvia dealt with the leader.

All the teachers were revealing their brutal sides. Little Flitwick caused the Ravenclaw table to whack itself repeatedly on the Giant's head, who dumbly tried to fend it off with his club. Professor McGonagall transfigured half of the staff table into a moderately sized rhinoceros that galloped towards the Giant. The giant smashed his club onto the rhinoceros' head, which immediately revealed it's original wooden form. While doing this, however, the giant was distracted. Hagrid threw a club that hit directly onto the giant's nose while on the other side Flitwick's table arrived just in time to shatter whatever the giant had inside his head into pieces.

The Giant dropped dead like a stone statue, and didn't move again.

Meanwhile, Silvia and Dumbledore were not having much luck.

Whatever curses or objects they sent towards the Leader Giant was either rebounded or missed the target. The Giant dodged several curses with extraordinary swiftness for it's cumbrous size and slashed at Silvia with his club, a little more than a blur of reddish fury tinged with gray shadows. Silvia summoned a shield in time to block the impact. The front of the club collided with the blue orb surrounding Silvia and burned up in a fountain of sparks. The giant gave a furious battle cry and threw the remaining piece of metal towards the students who are watching in awe. The piece of metal spun in the air at alarming speed and rammed into set of armor that decorated the hall.

The broken shard of the Giant's club was pinned harmlessly into the armor set, which tried furiously to pull it out. However, the helmet of the armor bounced off - or rather shot off - straight at the students, at the first year girl Lucy who was too taken aback to move.

Time seemed suspended again. Everyone watched as the helmet flew closer and closer towards the little girl, too surprised at the turn of events, unable to do anything to help.

Ginny Weasley stared at the debris of the Great Hall before her. She had taken down a Death Eater on her own. Now she saw that the teachers were too far away to save the first year girl standing a few meters away from her. In the back of her mind, she knew that Harry Potter was also too late to do anything. Knowing that she herself knows of no spell to save the girl who was so close from her death, she did the only thing that came to her mind…

The Great Hall held its breath in a morbid way, waiting to witness the loss of a young soul. Suddenly, a flash of red sprang into the girl, knocking her aside, taking the blow for her. The impact of the helmet threw the red-haired figure into the air, and the person landed several meters away, straight onto the dead body of the giant Harry knocked down.

Harry stared at the blood-soaked figure. The chill of fear surrounding his heart settled instantly to frost, and color drained from his features.

He wasstaring atGinny Weasley.

The Great Hall was silent. Even the leader Giant was amazed at the scene before him. All eyes were fixed upon the slender figure who had just sacrificed her lifefor someone she didn't even know. The little girl Lucy breathed, andbegan to cry.

Harry couldn't take in what he saw.

Ginny was dead. DEAD.

Anguish filled his thought, anguish turned to rage, and then rage turned to hatred. It was hatred beyond anything he felt in his life. His blood soared in his veins and power surged from the unknown source in his soul. It was what Silvia always warned him about. Extreme emotions can trigger immense power; power that may be too much a burden for the body, but power still. He worked for months to control his emotion, dreading the moment when so much power was laid before him. Normally, he would have shut down his emotions like a machine rather than experience a little taste of the great powers that were promised to him.

But this time he took it.

The floor around Harry Potter cracked. The air vibrated in an impossible way. Power poured out like heat. Invisible, but every living and breathing person can feel it nonetheless. The stormy ceiling of the Great Hall that had been watching the scene impassively moments ago now flickered like a half-tuned TV screen; the magically floating candles wavered with a blast of invisible wind.

Harry raised his wand; his hands now seemed to be wrapped in some bubbling grayish-purple substance as his magical gloves melted. His wand trembled and gave off a strained scream.

He muttered.

"AVADA KEDAVRA".


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten **

**Revelations **

"AVADA KEDAVRA."

It wasn't a shout or scream. The killing curse was muttered in such an indifferent way that concealed all the underlying hatred and anguish. For a moment, Harry Potter was gone, replaced by an entity drenched in pure power, mastered by a single impulse – to kill. His existence had no judgment, no conscience, nothing to provoke an impression of a human being. Harry Potter was gone. What took his place was but a simple container of the vast and unimaginable power of Mind Magic. The power based on emotions. The powers initiated from the subconscious mind.

The blue mist surrounding Harry shimmered and shrank, following a path from his heart via his right arm to his wand. The glowing blue mist squeezed itself into the narrow confinement of the thin wooden stick, reappearing from the other end, filtered sparkling green that matched the glow in Harry's eyes.

"AVADA KEDAVRA."

The spell hit the Giant straight on the chest. Rather than shooting out in a jet, the killing curse linked with its source of power and poured into the Giant continually, draining its life for what seemed to be aneternity. The dragon skin still clung onto its master's body, burning with agreen fire, struggling to fend off the unstoppable curse. The Giant stared around franticly for a moment, feeling death creeping up his spine. The Spell broke, he died.

Harry watched the giant with fascination. For a moment, he struggled to find his mind, to comprehend what he had just done. Then thoughts crashed into him, light turnedto dark, and he collapsed.

The Great Hall was silent. For a moment everyone looked at everyone, lost in surprise, breathing the scent of death. Harry Potter hadobviously performed the killing spell and finished off the last giant. In fact, Harry Potter took down two giants own his own. That's all they've realized. That's as far as their understanding reached. Then a buzz of talks begun. Friends embraced friends; lovers clung together like moths. Finally, people stepped up and surrounded the unconscious forms of Harry and Ginny.

Professor Dumbledore was kneeling over Ginny.

"She's alive, only unconscious," he whispered in relief and levitated her to a stretcher. On his other side, Ron collapsed on to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Dumbledore then crawled towards Harry in a very undignified way. He checked the pulse, fumbled with his eyelids and finally raised his head to the tear-stained face of Silvia.

"He's alright," he whispered, slightly in awe. "Pure exhaustion. No wonder, with power strong enough to disrupt Hogwarts' magical field flowing through his body."

Silvia sighed tearfully and put Harry into a stretcher next to Ginny's. With a wave of her hand, the stretchers floated towards the infirmary.

Harry heard subdued voices. He identified one clearly as Madam Pomfrey - he must be in the hospital wing then. He strained to distinguish the other voices; the anxious-sounding whisper seemed to be Silvia's, a soft voice that belongs to Dumbledore. There was a curtain pulled around his bed and he could hear muffled conversations, followed by footsteps clinking on the tiled floor. He tried to lift up the sheet above him and shift his legs, but his leg felt like it weighted a ton. Every single fiber in his body strained in pain with the slightest movement. The hospital smock that had been put on him felt like full body armor. He tried to pull it away from his neck, but it still felt constrictive. He inched it up his body, then grimaced as he collapsed again.

He put his hand on his sternum, feeling the quartz necklace. _Ginny_, he thought suddenly. Was she really dead? He didn't know, nor did he want to know. A part of his soul was wretched from him when he saw Ginny being knocked down. If Harry had been more observant and understanding of his own emotions, he would have realized why he cared about Ginny so much. But the only thought filling his brain at the moment was that Voldemort has taken away yet again another person Harry cared about from him. He felt his eyes prickle. Footsteps returned and he heard to door to the infirmary opening and closing, followed by Madam Pomfrey's office door. The lights in the infirmary were extinguished and he was submerged once again in darkness.

Harry lay there for what he felt like an eternity. His mind was blissfully blank as he stared into the darkness, then he felt something: another presence in the room, another person breathing. Someone else in the infirmary, he thought absently. Harry didn't remember seeing anyone gravely injured in the Great Hall. Most people got cuts and scratches, maybe broken legs - nothing that couldn't be fixed with a swish of wand.

But the person moved. He realized. The person was on the floor, walking purposefully in silent, careful steps. Walking towards his direction.

Harry tensed. After what happened on September the first, it could be anyone. He struggled to pull aside the curtain, but his arm was too heavy. He heard quiet, rushed breathings outside the curtains; he heard the slightest flutter as his curtain was pulled open in cautious slow motion. He turned his head painfully towards the source of moonlight on the curtains, and then his vision was blurred by a shadow.

"Oh, Harry, you had us all so worried!" the person exclaimed, bending towards him. Harry felt a rush of warmth, the familiar scent of lily.

"Ginny? You're alive?" he jerked up in surprise and fell back to his bed painfully. He twisted his neck, devouring the sight of her bathed in moonlight.

"Of course I'm alive," she whispered above his face, staring into his eyes with barely concealed affection and relief. "That helmet's not going to kill me, it's not much worse than a Bludger from Fred. I'm getting out of here tomorrow. But you, you had us all scared. Even Dumbledore was afraid that you won't make it."

Her voice trembled in relief. Suddenly she yawned and stretched her arms. Harry couldn't help but notice the interesting way her hospital smock twisted and the fact that it was very thin. He was glad that Ginny didn't catch him looking.

"So how long was I out?" he asked mock-casually.

"Four days," Ginny sat on the small space between his stomach and the edge of the bed, hugging her knees close. "We're not going to have any lessons this week. We all need some rest. And the Great Hall needs to be fixed. It's smashed to bits. They're having their meals in the house common rooms for now."

She stared into space for a moment, resting her chin on her knee. After a moment, she looked down at Harry again.

"Hermione told me what happened," she said simply. "She said that you used the killing curse after I passed out. But although Hermione is about the smartest witch Hogwarts has seen this century, there are things she doesn't know about."

She looked at Harry intently.

"For one, she doesn't know that there aren't many sixteen-year-olds who can use the Avada Kedavra, let along killing a giant wearing dragon skin. Nor does she know that the killing curse is a bolt of green light, not a light chain. I know these things because I was told by the expert. In fact, I wasn't just told. Tom Riddle showed it to me during my first year, when I had the diary. He taught me how to do it."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it. This was the first time Ginny talked in detail about what it felt like to be possessed. Ginny continued to hold his gaze with a pleading expression in her eyes.

"You've been different, Harry. So could you please tell me what's going on?" she whispered, leaning closer. "First smashing a Giant's brain out, then killing another one. It's just _not_ you, the brutality doesn't suit you. So could you just tell me what changed you? I know you think that nobody could ever understand you, but you can at least give me a chance. I've been in Voldemort's head, too."

Harry averted his eyes. Avoiding her eyes was as difficult as fighting the Imperius curse. He hesitated. A part of him wanted to tell her about he prophecy, a part of him needed someone to share this burden with him, but at the same time he didn't want anybody's pity. Either to be a murderer or to be murdered, this was his path to go, and he would go alone. But faced with Ginny's pleading eyes, he couldn't reject her. After all she had a right to know, she was with him in the Department of Mysteries, and she knows what it felt like to be Tom Riddle.

"A prophecy was made after I was born," his voice crackled, he fixed his eyes on a shadowed point on the distant infirmary walls. "The copy of it was smashed last year, as you know. But Dumbledore kept the original versioni of it, and now I know it too. '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._'"

Harry took a deep breath that pained his chest and paused, turning to look at Ginny's reaction. Unlike he anticipated, Ginny didn't yell out in surprise, she didn't shed any tears out of pity. Ginny was at a loss of words. She stared at him, her pupils wide, her mouth slightly open. Her face was marked with a forlorn expression as she watched him.

"The funny thing was," Harry continued bitterly. "It could have meant Neville. But the son of a bitch Voldemort 'marked me'. Well I certainly don't feel like his equal. But I would gladly kill him a thousand times over if I can."

Ginny continued to let the information sink it. She shook her head and spoke.

"No Harry." She whispered coarsely. "Don't speak like that. It's not you. You have compassion. You know love. It's the one thing Tom didn't have. That's the power he doesn't have."

Ginny seems to have recovered her composure. She shifted uncomfortably and stretched out her legs. With a wave with her wand, she moved her bed next to Harry's and climbed onto it. Then she lied down on her side to face Harry.

"You have something Tom doesn't. Tom didn't know love. He understood lust, he was drenched with it, but not love, which can be too great a power to imagine. That's because no one loved him. I wonder if you know, Harry, you and Tom are terribly similar but at the same time different," she was looking at him with eyes that burned. "Both of you were orphans. Both of you are talented wizards. Both of you are extremely brave, although Tom not in the same self-sacrificing way. You even look alike. Yet you are gentle and understanding, while Tom was too ambitious, he was greedy for power and revenge on those who wronged him. That's what brought his downfall. But you're not like that."

Harry nodded, or tried to.

"I know. He told me in the Chamber of Secrets." He said coldly. "Sixteen-years-old Tom Riddle, gloating over what he did to you. It's hard to believe that when he knew what it feels like to be lonely, he still orphaned so many after him. But you are right about the part of me being different. I am different. I feel different, Ginny. "

His voice suddenly dropped to a passionate whisper, eager to express some of his feelings.

"There are times when I taste no fear, when I feel so great and powerful like I can achieve anything. When I killed the giant, I felt no remorse or even panic. It was my first kill, and I enjoyed it. So many thoughts rushed into me at that time. A life so powerfully wrapped under layers of brutal, bloodthirsty force, full of energy. But the moment when it died, I can almost feel the life force draining from it. I can see its eyes darken, despair overrun pitiless confidence. With a little wave of my wand, life no longer holds its sway but crushed in my hands. So much power … At that moment … I played God."

Harry breathed deeply, eyes misting over hungrily as he relived the death of the Giant.

"Stop this! Please Harry stop. _Please!_" Ginny sat up, shaking her head in desperation. Harry could hear the tear in her voice. "You are talking about life like it's nothing. But do you know what it feels like to be dying? You don't. Well I'm telling you that I _do_. I've tasted death. In the Chamber of Secrets, when every drop of my life was flowing into Tom, I saw death descending on me. And I'm telling you it's not a pleasant feeling."

Harry caught his breath. His swelled heart returned to normal, rational feelings came back to him as he realized what he had just said. He stared again at Ginny as she sat cross-legged, strands of strayed across her face, the rest resting messily on her shoulders.

"I was in a void, sinking deeper and deeper. Around me I could hear cries of anguish. Pained ones, desperate ones, or resigned last breath of dying souls. Others were around me. I can't see but I feel their presence. I feel them falling just like I will fall, slowly, prolonged. It wasn't pain, and I watched my life replaying before my eyes. Being sorted into Gryffindor; meeting you at the train station; every prank the twins played on me; the time when my toy broom broke and I fell, hurting my knees; mum making my favorite fruit cake; dad bringing home muggle toys. Every second of it only made me to miss life more. I made so many bargains with God. I promised to be the good girl mum wanted me to be, I bargained with my sight, my ability to walk, all for another chance to live. Then I heard your voice calling me. I tried to struggle but I couldn't, and all I could hear, all I could feel is your voice wrapping around me like a blanket. I watched my own birth, I watched as the nurses washed me and wrapped me in a pink fluffy blanket, dad trying to tickle me. The beginning of my life marked my end. I waited in the abyss bracing for whatever is to come, but when I regained my sense the first thing I felt was not the fires of hell, but freezing cold floor, and your warmth as you held me."

She took a deep breath, her voice ragged, tear flowed freely down her cheek but she ignored it.

"When someone dies, that's how he feels," she whispered. "Do you still want to play God, Harry? Do you really want to inflict so much desperation for one that doesn't really deserve it? Everybody's got a right to live."

Silence drifted into the room, and the silence lasted. Harry's lips trembled, his breathing paced up as his chest heaved in pain.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he croaked. "I couldn't control myself. Please believe me. I didn't really believe in what I said, but I don't know what's wrong with me, sometimes, another side of me simply takes over."

Another pause. Ginny wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

"I know."

They talked until the first streak of sunshine crept upon the curtained window stills of the infirmary. Harry told Ginny his life with the Dursleys, the jokes he played on Dudley who was too stupid to react. Ginny laughed and in return, told him about _her_ life being the youngest and only daughter in the Weasley family. The talk begun out of mutual need. Both needed to forget about their experience a few days before, both needed to loosen the atmosphere. They spoke awkwardly at the beginning, cautious of the choice of words. For Harry, it was the first time he shared a room with someone so understanding, the first time he met some one with the same necessity to unburden a troubled soul. The conversation gave him comfort, made the confinement of so many dark secrets bearable. They avoided, deliberately, saying anything of the destiny laid before Harry, but focused on happier experiences. The few hours of talks built up a bond of understanding between them, gave them a sense of comfort and security in each other's presence, it gave Harry hope, showed him the possible happiness of life. In the end, when all the happy thoughts were drained, Harry cried out all the guilt he had been bearing alone all summer and fell asleep smiling. As for Ginny Weasley, she understood for the first time what it feels like to be The-Boy-Who-Lived.

They slept during the morning, their beds inches away from each other's. They both slept smiling, and both smiled in their dreams.

Ron and Hermione visited in the afternoon, deliberately not making a comment on the new distance between Harry Ginny.

"How are you feeling Harry?" asked Hermione as Ron hugged her to stop her jumping on him.

Ron settled in an armchair at the foot of the two beds, smiling at his sister and his best friend. Hermione pretended not to notice the silly grin on his face and kicked off her shoes, sitting cross-legged on Ginny's bed.

"Much better, thanks," Harry said, wincing as he lifted himself up. Ginny reached out instinctively to help him, only to make Ron's grin wider.

"So what happened?" Harry asked, eager for information. "How come Hogwarts has been attacked? Isn't it protected by ancient spells or something?"

Hermione frowned slightly. "That's what it says in _Hogwarts, a History_. But Dumbledore made a speech on the next day we were attacked. He said something about '_Nothing lasts forever. Spells or objects… they all die away in the end. Whatever spells once protected Hogwarts have weakened centuries ago, what truly protects Hogwarts now is the spirit of the people living inside it. The unity that extends beyond the barriers of houses, the unity we displayed on the dreadful night –_ '"

"How the hell do you remember all that?" Ron interrupted, gaping at her. "And don't say _'I listen'_."

"I listen, Ronald," Hermione pulled a face at him and turned towards Harry. "So you see, Voldemort is able to pass the magical field defending Hogwarts. You were able to disrupt Hogwarts' magic, Harry, therefore so can Voldemort. We have Aurors protecting Hogwarts now, Kingsley's in charge."

The four spent the afternoon catching up on what took place in Hogwarts. Ron's smile grew wider and wider as he watched the casual closeness that seemed to have settled between Harry and Ginny. Hermione frowned at him, but a small smile was tugging the corner of her lips. They were about the leave Harry for dinner when Silvia burst in screaming, followed by a highly amused-looking Professor Dumbledore.

"Oh Harry you're awake – you're awake!" she jumped onto him like a little girl, tears in her eyes.

"AWW – you're killing me!" Harry groaned under the impact.

Silvia paled seeing this and immediately jumped off him, only to bang her leg painfully on the bedside table. The others burst out laughing and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Good to see you back with us, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling. "You gave us quiet a scare."

"Thank you, Sir," Harry smiled back uncertainly, unsure of the Headmaster's response. He was sure that Dumbledore had more to say. "Is every one else –"

Harry paused, glancing at Silvia who was seething red, looking as if she was about to explode. She seemed to want to say something and was struggling to keep control. Dumbledore noticed this as well; he smiled and turned to look at Harry's friends.

"I have something to discuss with Harry in private. Why don't you go and eat dinner, you will notice that the Great Hall has been fixed," he said, blue eyes twinkling. "I'm aware of certain useful – er – tools called Extendable Ears. I would like to add that these won't work on the infirmary door."

Ron and Hermione smirked at this as they left, but Ginny blushed and tucked the flesh colored string back into her pocket. Dumbledore smiled at her warmly.

As soon as the others were out of earshot, Silvia exploded.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" she screamed vehemently. "How _DARE_ you… I thought I warned you about the importance of self-control. You could have blown up the whole school, and worse, you could have got yourself killed."

She paused for breath, panting heavily and glaring at Harry, who gulped, not expecting this.

"Speaking of self-control, where are mine?" Silvia calmed down slightly. "Professor, you first."

Dumbledore seemed to be trying not to smile as he put up a tight face, his facial muscles straining.

"Albus will be enough, dear girl," he nodded at her before turning onto Harry. "Harry, I must say I agree with Silvia. What you did was very irresponsible."

He sighed, suddenly looking very old. There was a tense pause, then he looked down at Harry with a sad smile.

"I made a mistake keeping information from you last year, and tried to do so again this year," Dumbledore's tired eyes did not move from Harry's confused ones, but the twinkle in it was gone. "I suppose the greatest mistake one could make is not learning from his mistakes, and I consider myself fortunate because I have decided to learn from mine."

Harry was utterly confused, but he could sense something in the Headmaster's words. On his side, Silvia no longer looked explosive but sad as she stared at the professor.

"I am sure you have realized that there seems to be an – ah - increase in power in your body." It was a statement, not a question. "I am also sure that you have experienced – say – alien emotions."

"Yes, sir," Harry said hesitantly. "Did you know why it's happening, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. Suddenly, Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, appeared on his shoulder in a burst of flame. The beautiful bird studied Harry, it's head tilted to one side, and then it fluttered to the bed and rubbed a bright red head against Harry's face, giving a sweet chirping call.

Dumbledore's wrinkled face suddenly light up in surprise.

"Well Harry, it seems that Fawkes has taken a liking in you," exclaimed Dumbledore as the bird drifted back to his shoulders. "Phoenixes rarely greet anyone other than their own masters and their own kind physically, and they are usually overprotective of those they love. Fawkes seems rather worried about your state of health, I must say."

"Ok…"Harry was again at a loss of words. "Sir, you were saying…"

"Oh yes, I see you are once more eager for the truth," Dumbledore smiled as he caressed the phoenix with a finger. "Alas, I think I said to you once, the truth, being a thing both beautiful and terrible, should be treated with great caution. I would not have revealed this to you under normal circumstances, but after the attack on Sunday, my position has changed."

Dumbledore's face gradually grew serious as he spoke, and Silvia, who had been listening attentively, tensed up.

"First of all, I must say you reacted very well on Sunday, in fact, it exceeded my expectation. Even though you did perform the Killing Curse, you didn't give in to the temptation to kill more." Dumbledore smiled grimly. "Do you know, Harry, that it requires specific concentration to perform the killing curse?"

Harry dumbly shook his head.

"I didn't expect you to," said Dumbledore. "It's rare, indeed almost impossible, for a sixteen-years old young wizard to be able to perform the Avada Kedavra. But not only were you able to use it, you were also able to mold it into something different. Instantaneous death is the only gift the Killing curse brings. But you changed that, you took away the gift of a swift death, you changed the spell. This is something that requires enormous power and concentration."

"Sir? Is it because of the Mind Magic?" Harry interrupted hesitantly.

Dumbledore sighed again.

"Yes and No, Harry," he continued. "The Mind magic gives you strong concentration, but I do not believe your practice has reached that stage yet. I watched your power grow last year, and I expected your power to increase more this year as, after all, Voldemort did mark you as his equal. But I am unprepared for such a drastic burst of power."

Dumbledore shifted his eyes to the darkening sky outside the window.

"Power is a gift, and power itself is corrupting," Dumbledore's voice was coarse, like an old man's. "Your urge to kill was brought forth by the corrupting element of the great magic inside you. I wanted to give you free space to explore them, because magic is different for every one, because ultimately you would be the one to master it. But you are young, Harry, too young, too unprepared for the burden you bear and the power you hold. I want to be there to guide you, and this is all I want to say to you tonight."

Harry was silent for a moment, taking the information in. There seemed to be a piece of crucial information missing, a gap in Dumbledore's revelations. While Harry believed Dumbledore's words to be true, he was sure that the Headmaster still kept something back.

"Where, Professor, where is my power from?" Harry asked after a moment of thought. "Why haven't I experienced it before - say - in my fifth year? I tried to use the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix after she – after she killed Sirius," Harry's was hit by a pang of guilt and sadness as he hadn't thought so much about his Godfather for the past few days. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Silvia, but Dumbledore seemed unperturbed. "But it didn't work. So why am I able to use the killing curse now?"

Dumbledore smiled. It was a bitter, pained smile Harry had never seen before.

"I should have known that you are going ask this," Dumbledore looked at Harry apologetically. "Trust me Harry, I would rather not answer this question then lie to you. But I do believe that you will find out when time is ripe. I have faith in you."

With that, Dumbledore gave him a nod and turned to leave, Fawkes disappearing after him in another burst of flame, leaving Harry staring after them, perplexed at the final declaration of trust.

* * *

A/N: I'm really surprise that I got so many reviews. Thank you! I'll answer them now.

Junky: nope, as you can see, I didn't kill Ginny. How can I? This is a H/G story after all

bandgsecurtiyaw: Lol, sorry, but apparently cliffhanger attract a lot of reviews

HP18: I promise I'll finish it this time. Sorry about that.

doomsday machine: Lol... so far I haven't changed much of the story yet, so ppl might still remember them. When the the Exile part comes in, however, i've totally changed the plot.

Caddy94: Thanks! I didn't kill Ginny though, so I'm not evil .

James Evans: It's great to hear stuffs like that. Actually, after reading some of the stuffs on this site, I kinda feel embarrased of my work.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Lesson with Silvia **

Harry spent the rest of dinnertime with Silvia, who seemed a little flustered after her outburst.

"I'm really sorry I yelled at you, Harry," said Silvia, looking as if she was about to cry.

"It's ok," Harry responded with the hint of a smile, amused by her emotional state. "I do have a question for you though. Why did Voldemort attack Hogwarts with only a dozen Death Eaters and four Giants, plus _two_ Dementors? He should have known that he would lose the battle."

"Now, I'm impressed that you asked this, even Hermione hasn't thought of it," Silvia said, looking proud. "This is a tactic frequently used by Voldemort during the last war. Know this, Harry, the Dark Lord's greatest weapon is fear. Succumb to fear, and you would surrender to him without a fight. This is how he achieves fear, surprise attacks, disruption of normal life, and breaking down of trust and the sense of security. Last time he was able to win the war of morale like this even before the fighting, but this time he failed. Instead of chaos and mistrust, he created unity within Hogwarts, which would only make his future attacks harder to succeed."

"But eventually…" Harry whispered.

"But eventually he would come, personally, with an army of darkness," finished Silvia, looking at Harry quietly.

The two looked at each other silently for a moment, Harry swallowed, realizing the indication behind her words.

"We have to be prepared," he said eventually. "Why didn't you tell me you're coming to teach? It would have made me happy."

"Wanted it to be a surprise," said Silvia. "But Professor Dumbledore didn't even get a chance to introduce me before being – er - interrupted."

"Oh…" Harry felt tired and dizzy, suddenly, another question jumped at him. "Why am I like this? I mean, why do I feel like every single bone in my body has been smashed to pieces?"

Silvia winced.

"That's because they have," she said softly, and Harry winced again. "I told you before, Harry, the human body is not so well-adapted at channeling magic. You awakened quite an amazing amount of power-reserve in your body, and if it had been some one else, me, for example, I would have exploded from within, and every single cell in my body would have been ripped apart."

Harry felt sick at the picture.

"But not you, Harry. Apparently your natural ability to channel magic is even more amazing than I thought," Silvia continued, smiling evilly. "I expected you to lie dead in a pool of blood, and I wouldn't be able to get you up because you would melt when touched. But apparently, apart from major organs concussion, severe internal bleeding, and quite a few broken bones, nothing serious happened to you."

"Nothing serious?" Harry was outraged. "You call this nothing serious?"

"Yes, compared to what would have happened to someone else, I would say so." Silvia snapped. "It's your fault that you lost control. Apparently, you really do care about certain Miss Ginny Weasley."

Harry blushed, but at the same time he was also confused at his own reaction. Why did he have to blush each time _her_ name was mentioned? Silvia rolled her eyes.

"And they told me you were intelligent," Silvia shook her head. "You're more hopeless than your dad. Whatever, go to sleep now. Nox."

Harry smiled as darkness engulfed him, his heart very much relieved.

The next three days passed without great incident, unless you included the small party held in the Gryffindor common room. Harry was finally released from the Hospital wing on Sunday, feeling refreshed, and as soon as he entered, the common room exploded in cheers and yells. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juices and Butterbeer on every table. Someone had let off some Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-bangs; and Dean, who was excellent at drawing, had put up some banners depicting a Giant with its brains smashed out or burning in green fire. Some of them read: **Welcome Back, Harry Potter, Hero of Gryffindor**.

Harry helped himself to food, but he did not feel particularly glad seeing his housemates holding a party for him because he killed. He didn't feel proud for loosing control. After finishing his butterbeer, Harry excused himself and went up to the dormitory.

Harry woke up next morning and found the others already dressing.

"Hurry up mate," said Ron, putting on a sweater that seemed too small for him. "If we can get to class early we can get a good seat."

Harry yawned as he patiently put on his socks.

"What are you talking about? What class?" he asked.

"Silvia's. That's right, I forgot to give you the time table," Ron began digging in his bag. "Here, take. We have double Defense with Silvia and free before break."

"Free?" Harry asked, glancing at his timetable as they made their way to the entrance hole.

"Yep," answered Ron.

They reached the Great Hall in a hurry; Ron's eyes were immediately drawn to a figure with bushy brown hair next to another with long, flaming hair. "We're not taking that many subjects, you know, only those needed for Auror - "

He was cut short by a greeting kiss from Hermione, and Harry took the opportunity to study the newly decorated Great Hall. The magical ceiling was no longer flickering, at this moment it showed the pale blue September sky out side; the deep scotches in the floor have been miraculously removed, although some walls still showed marks where some of the more powerful spells hit them. The tables looked new, presumably because the old ones were smashed to bits and could not be repaired. It was still early and students dotted around the tables, occasionally glancing at him, giving him small waves.

"They think you're a hero," Ginny said, following Harry's glance. "The hero of Gryffindor who defeated two Giants on his own."

"Morning Ginny," Harry wasn't sure whether she was being sarcastic, and decided not to respond.

"Morning Harry," she said, shifting to give him space to sit. Harry's eyes instantaneously shot towards Dean, who sat opposite to Seamus and Lavender.

"We're not seeing each other anymore," Ginny said quietly as she gazed at Harry intently. "We decided we don't like each other that way."

"Oh," Harry didn't know why he felt something lifting from his stomach. "I'm sorry."

Ginny gathered her stuffs and stood up.

"Don't be," she said shortly, disappointed for some reason. "I've finished, see you at break."

She left the table without looking back. On his other side, Ron looked at him questioningly. Harry shrugged and began eating his breakfast.

The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Sixth year and were seated in the classroom before the bell had even rang. Obviously, Silvia impressed the entire school with her performance last Sunday.

The trio hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher's desk and took out their copies of _Prepare yourself for the Dark Times_ and waited. The class was whispering in agitation, clearly impatient. Ron grinned at Harry and Hermione.

Silvia surprised the class with a Snape-like entrance. Her dark cloak bellowed behind her as the classroom door banged shut. She took out a register without a word and glanced down at it, after a moment, she looked up at the frightened class and smiled.

"I see, the potion-master type of entrance really does have this effect on you," she said.

The class erupted in laughter. Hermione rolled her eyes and whispered to Harry, "Ginny told her", and then she laughed. Harry fought down a smile of his own.

Silvia summoned a high-legged armchair and sat down comfortably. She glanced at the register again before throwing it aside.

"Alright then, as you should have registered by now, I am your new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher," she said when the class calmed down. "This class's standard is unusually low for its age and has a high tendency to lie, or so was I told in a letter left behind by my predecessor, Missus Frog-face."

The class laughed again, Ron was holding his stomach as he rolled back and forth in his chair. Harry fought down a smile and secretly gave Silvia a thumb-up, and was returned by a small wink.

"Now, Seriously, I was told by a much competent and trust worthy teacher - Professor Lupin - personally that this class has a very thorough understanding of the principles of the Defense against the Dark Arts," said Silvia, smiling. "You have covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas and werewolves, am I correct?"

There is a general murmur of assent. A few people still tried to stifle their laughter.

"And two years ago, the fake Professor Moody, or Barty Crouch Junior, demonstrated the three unforgivable curses, did he not?"

Most people nodded, while some others frowned at the name.

"He was an imposter, but one thing he said should have stuck in your mind. CONSTANT VIGILANCE," Silvia smirked. "Well, we will see about that. STUPIFY!"

Silvia's wand appeared out of nowhere and before anyone realized what happened, a red jet of stunning spell was speeding towards Harry. Harry, however tensed before Silvia had even drew out her wand and ducked with his Seeker reflex. The spell brushed past his hair and struck Neville behind him, who fell over his chair, stunned.

"Very good, Harry, very good indeed," praised Silvia, sounding impressed. "As I was saying, constant vigilance. We're facing dark times, you never know who's the enemy. Even friends could turn against you, under the influence of spells or potions. It's best to be always on your guard."

She waved her wand slightly and Neville woke up with a groan. Harry turned and muttered, "sorry Nev."

"Although all you learned last year was some standard Ministry rubbish, most of you do have an excellent knowledge of spells, and most people achieved either an E or an O in your OWL for Defense," Silvia smiled again. "Thanks, I suppose, to certain secret student organization."

Harry blushed hearing this, while Neville muttered behind him, "yeah, thanks mate."

"But there is one crucial thing you've missed," Silvia's face became serious. "Why, in the name of Merlin, does this subject exist at all?"

Her question was met by surprised silence. Harry looked up at her questioningly, but this time she refused to look at him.

"May be I should word my question better," Silvia continued. "We do this subject because we need defense against the Dark Arts. But why would people use the Dark Arts? Why should someone want to use the Cruciatus?"

The class turned and looked expectantly at Hermione, who blushed, but not raising her hand. After a while, Harry spoke quietly.

"Because it makes them feel powerful," he said. "Because they can."

Silvia smiled at Harry.

"10 points to Gryffindor," she said. "Yes, because they can. Know this people, one can be killed by the simplest spell imaginable. The disarming spell, for instance, has been known to cause accidental death before. But the Avada Kedavra and the like, while achieving the same purpose, are addictive. Not everyone can use them but once you loose what I call your "spell virginity", you'll find yourself wanting to wield the power again and again, until you fall for it, and become an enslavement of Dark Arts … "

Her eyes swept across the classroom. She seemed to be enjoying this immensely.

" … which takes us to my next question," she continued. "What is Dark Art? What's Dark Magic?"

No one answered. The room sat in absolute silence, waiting for her explanation. Silvia smiled.

"Well, no one can answer this question. No me, nor you, not even Professor Dumbledore," she was twirling her wand again. Some people tensed up as if expecting a spell. She smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything." She laid her wand on the table. "Well, we can't answer that question not because we don't know the answer, but because the question itself is flawed. There is no such thing as Dark Arts. What people classify as Dark Arts are usually particular powerful and gruesome spells. For example, one spell that really interests me is called the Blood Spell. It requires the caster to draw his blood. This spell has always been condemned as Dark Magic in history, but I call it hypocritical bullshit. It's an excuse people use because they're not powerful enough to use it."

Her hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her wand.

"Reducto"

She said the incantation gently, but the cupboard in the corner of the room exploded to pieces. The class watched in shock. Harry smirked.

"_Show off_," he mouthed at her. Silver ignored him.

"Had I aimed at one of you, you'd blow up," she explained, "unless you're more powerful than me, in which case my spell would be absorbed. But say you're not more powerful than me and I killed you, for no apparent reason. Would that act be any less evil than using the Avada Kedavra?"

"So you see, there is no such thing as dark magic, only dark purpose. Anything can become dark if you abuse it," she concluded. "My point is, if there is no such thing as Dark Arts, then you're shouldn't be restricted from using them. I'll be teaching you some very powerful spells that borders dark magic – it's your choice whether you want to learn them or not – but I don't want you to hold any prejudice against them."

"Learning powerful spells can be dangerous. You can easily be lost in the power, too absorbed, too addicted … "

The bell for the first lesson rang, but no one twitched a muscle. Everybody gazed at Silvia, spell bound. Harry now had a feeling that her words were specifically directed at him, Hermione seemed to feel the same as she kept glancing at him.

"Lord Voldemort is the best modern example. No body is born evil; even the Dark Lord had once been a normal human being with flesh and blood. But he gave in to temptation, and his power made him what he is," Silvia whispered, but frowned as the class flinched at hearing the name. She raised her voice a little and continued. "To defend yourself against the Death Eaters, you must first overcome the fear. Frankly I'm quite disappointed that people still feared saying his name. Very well, in our lesson tomorrow, I will ask volunteers to speak the name Voldemort. If you've managed to do so, I shall award you 15 house points."

Many people flinched again, but as Harry turned around, he saw Neville's face determined.

"Right… I think I've finished the introduction. Now let's get to business," Silvia stood up in front of the teacher's desk. "I want you to be prepared for what's out there, so we will be learning offensive spells as well as defensive ones. I will train you to duel, but one day each week will be spent on theories."

She rubbed her hands and swept her eyes across the class eagerly.

"So, tips first. What many people often forget, is that everyday spells are also useful during a duel. Now, can anyone tell me in what ways could you use _Wingardium Leviosa_ when dueling?" asked Silvia. "Come on people, use your imaginations. Anything is fine."

Several hands were raised at once.

"And you would be…" she pointed at Lavender.

"Lavender Brown, Professor," said Lavender nervously. "Could you, say, levitate the opponent to unnerve him?"

Silvia smiled sweetly.

"Just call me Silvia," she said. "Excellent idea, Lavender, it would work rather well on people with acrophobia. It's possible, but difficult – depending again on power. If you're very, very, very much more powerful than your opponent, then you can theoretically make him shoot into space."

She gave her a wink and pointed at a Ravenclaw.

"Yes…"

The class continued like this for half an hour, and people became more and more relaxed in her class. The entire class burst out laughing when Seamus suggested using the spell to lift up a female opponent's skirt.

"Nasty, Seamus," Silvia fought to maintain a straight face. "I certainly won't be wearing anything _revealing_ confronting you. Anyway, for homework, I want you to think of ten ordinary spells and invent ways to use them in a duel. Please be sensible about it, it is for dueling, after all. On Wednesday's double lesson we will try them out. Class dismissed."

Many people groaned as they lifted up their unopened bag, clearly enjoying the class too much to leave. A lot of the boys gave Silvia shy glances as they left the class, causing Harry to snicker.

"Now Mr. Potter," she said, as the classroom eventually grew empty. "A word, if you please."

Ron and Hermione shot Harry curious glances as they left the classroom. Harry proceeded to the teacher's desk with a smile.

"Yes, Professor?" he said in a singsong voice.

Silvia snorted, putting away piles of paper and books.

"So, how was my first lesson?" she said, abandoning the formalities.

"Well, you've probably made yourself the most popular DADA teacher in 6 years," answered Harry, looking proud. "Including Lupin."

Silvia raised an eyebrow as she sank back into her comfortable armchair.

"Don't flatter me Mr. Potter. Anyway, I wanted to ask you, have you been practicing Shadow Boxing lately?" she asked, a faint snicker in her voice. "By lately I mean the past 3 weeks."

Harry blushed. "No."

There was a scuffle of activity in the hall as the second bell rang.

"Well, come and meet me at around eight o'clock this afternoon," she responded in a mock angry tone. "We will discuss your training, which you should remember is supposed to be a secrete."

A line of timid second-years lined up outside the classroom, occasionally taking shy peeks at Silvia, who slipped out of her chair.

"Oops, I've got some little kiddies to scare," she slapped Harry's shoulder sisterly. "See you tonight then, Harry."

Harry gave her a wave and left the classroom, ignoring the half-curious, half-fearful stares from the second years.

A fine misty drizzle was falling out side, steadily growing into heavy rain. Harry made his way to the library. As he expected, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in a secluded corner of the library, but it seemed that they weren't exactly bored waiting.

"Hem, hem," Harry coughed. Ron and Hermione separated, blushing. "If you two have finished, may be we can get started on Silvia's homework."

Ron's ears turned to shades of red to match his hair as he took out his books. Hermione's voice was slightly high-pitched as she spoke.

"Well, what did she want?" she asked, still blushing furiously.

Harry settled on a chair opposite to them, taking out a sheet of parchment and a battered quill.

"Nothing really," he responded casually, letting his quill soak up some ink. "She just wanted to know how her lesson was."

Ron, who was fumbling with his textbook, suddenly piped up.

"She's awesome," he said in a voice of awe. "Mind you, her lessons could be dead useful when it comes to fighting Death Eaters."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Come on let's get cracking. I don't feel like doing homework tonight."

The three settled into a thoughtful discussion as the talked about what kind of spell could be useful in a duel. Harry's mind, however, was also occupied by other thoughts. He couldn't help but notice how their friendship has changed since the summer holidays. With Ron and Hermione as lovers, they spent less time with Harry, who couldn't help but feel lonely. Harry knew that Ron and Hermione deserved a chance to be happy, but he also doubted whether he would live long enough to have a girlfriend of his own. He sighed inwardly and squashed thought mercilessly – with the prophecy hanging over him, it's not the time to be weak.

" – hey Harry … " Ron was poking at him, "Pss… you there? I was just saying – what about Bluebell Flames … if I cast that on someone, would that work?"

"Huh? Oh, well, depends I guess. I don't think that spell is powerful enough to any damage …" Harry summoned back his mind and focused again on their work.

Not two minutes after the break bell, Ginny bustled into the library, looking extremely put off. Madame Pince, the librarian who was very strict and protective of her library, glared after her.

"How, in the name of hell, did you get through last year?" Ginny scowled as she sat down heavily next to Harry, her bag landing next to her with a thud. "I've already got homework from Snape and Flitwick for tomorrow, _and_ I've got an assignment for Ancient Rune."

"You take Ancient Rune?" asked Harry, surprised.

Ginny leaned back in her chair, her hands massaging her eyes.

"Yeah, I thought it would be interesting," she said lazily. "Better than Divination."

Harry stared at Ginny, who sat stretched in the chair, revealing all the supple curves of a woman. He felt his mouth go dry.

_Shut it, Potter_, he thought furiously, blushing. _What the hell is _

_wrong with you?_

"Mind you, sixth year's supposed to be the easiest, less subjects, no exams," Ginny pouted again. "Life's so bloody unfair, how come I don't get the easy work?"

"Yeah… dunno," Harry replied absent-mindedly, turning back to his list of spells.

One thing Harry never truly understood was how news travels so fast in Hogwarts. One hour after sixth year DADA lesson, Snape seemed to have already heard about Silvia's mimicking of him. He was in a very foul mood and entered his classroom in an even more exaggerated way.

"_Silence_," rumbled Snape coldly, slamming the door behind him with such force that the entire wall seemed to tremble.

There was no need for a second call of order; the moment Snape spoke, the class grew as quiet and cheerful as a graveyard. Usually, Snape's mere presence was enough to ensure a class's silence. Today his temper was almost fear-inducing.

"Now before I start this class," snapped Snape, cold eyes sweeping over the students, focusing especially on Harry, who glared back with barely hidden contempt. "All of you here achieved an Outstanding in your OWL, may it be skill or luck. But I still think it appropriate to remind you that next year you still have a more important and difficult examination. Although most … hopeless imbeciles in this class are fortunately out of my door, there are still some of your who do not pocess the careful and patient skill of potion making. I suggest you take care to improve during this two years, or the outcome of your stupidity could affect the rest of your life."

He shifted his gaze away from Harry to the rest of the class.

"For today's lesson we will be brewing a potion called the Kiss of Life. This is a potion that does not usually come up in your NEWT exams, as it requires high precision and when mixed wrongly can become a deadly poison, but the headmaster believes that this potion may become useful for – future – incidents, therefore I suggest you pay close attention in learning. What you need - " he waved his wand and letters appeared on the blackboard. "- is on the board. So, who is intelligent enough to tell me what is the effect of the Kiss of Life and why it's named so?"

Hermione tensed and raised her hand, but Snape ignored her.

"No body?" he smirked, turning his face away from Hermione. "Very well, I should have known. The Kiss of Life is the strongest poison antidote in existence – but to use it, a person has to drink it first and pass the healing effect on with a kiss. The vapor of this potion is an effective cure for most skin disease. But be careful, if you make even the slightest mistake in stirring, the potion will turn to an equally effective poison, therefore I suggest your put on your mask. You have one hour and forty minutes… now start."

Harry was surprised that Snape for some reason chose to ignore him for the rest lesson. No snippy comments were made; in fact, Snape seemed to avoid standing anywhere near him, which he could only see as an improvement. Whenever Snape did look at him, however, Harry saw something in his eyes, almost like a warning.

The same thing happened in Transfiguration and Charms after lunch. Professor McGonagal shot him warning glances whenever she felt no one was looking, while little Professor Flitwick charmed a paper airplane which floated along the wall casually to Harry's table at the side to the room. Harry opened the paper, which read:

MINISTER OF MAGIC COMING, YOU MAY HAVE TROUBLE, BEWARE!

When later Harry gave him a questioning look, however, Flitwick shook his head gravely and dismissed the class.

"What's all this about?" asked Hermione curiously, after reading the piece of paper. "You haven't done anything!"

Harry swung his bag over his shoulders and shrugged.

"The teachers are trying to warn me about something they apparently can't talk about," answered Harry heavily, " and it's got something to do with Fudge. What can I do about it though? Let's just go." He turned and started walking in easy strides.

Hermione caught up with him, with Ron fluttering behind, looking confused.

"No Harry, this is serious," she said seriously. "I have a feeling that it's about the stupid article. You'd be in serious trouble if the Ministry tries to remove you from Hogwarts!"

Harry laughed. It was a different laugh from what the others remembered. The laughter brushed past their face like a blast of cold wind, with a maniacal edge to it. Hermione shuddered; Ron stared at Harry's eyes in alarm, watching the savage light that suddenly lit up like gas fire.

"I'd love to see them try," Harry sneered. "What can they do to me, after all."

* * *

Reviews:

HP18: I've changed a lot of the story, particularly in the later chapters, so I'm not posting the MNFF version. I'm not sure if this version is better though, because it gets really ooc later. you'll just have to wait and see

firetiger: I guess it's just a part of my vanity... can't help but compare with other people.

Inverness:dude, you've just outlined one of my major themes ... it's exactly as you say: Harry is neither good nor evil. I've got my theory of why voldie can't be killed later ... However, it's not as simple as that either. In someways... as it'll become apparent later,Harry's sole existance is to fulfill a destiny. He sees himself as a tool to eradicate Voldemort and anything that stands in his way. He has to realize that there are more things in life than fate, and if he doesn't come to term with his, no matter how powerful he becomes, he can never beat Voldie. I'm not sure if what i said made sense...

Caddy94: here comes your next chapter

lluvatar: thanks!

James Evans: um, not really. the gloves melted. i never intended them to be a major part of the story. however... you've just given me a GREAT idea. I might use it, and I'll credit you for it thanks

Junky: Fawkes is not worried about Harry turning dark. Harry wont turn dark, he's a mixture of light and dark. Ginny didn't retain any powers because she's not a natural magic containter like Harry is... but that thing comes up again later. thanks for the review


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: **

**Fudge's mistake **

**A/N: I didn't check this chapther, so there might be some mistakes. Anyway, this is where the story gets out of hand and becomes more and more unlike Harry Potter ... I'll answer the reviews next time ...**

Rom and Hermione followed Harry around for the end of the day. Both of them registered something different about him, but none of them dared to mention it. He seemed oddly agitated, and only until dinnertime, did the maddening glint in his eyes disappear. He became once more the reserved, gloomy Harry Potter they were increasingly familiar with.

As Harry entered the Great Hall for dinner, Ginny came looking for him.

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore wants to see you," she said, for some reason nervous. "It's urgent - something about Fudge."

"Oh," came Harry's reply, but already his mind was working furiously as he followed Ginny to the teacher's table. Why on earth would Fudge want to see him?

Dumbledore looked very grave as he stood beside the table.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley," he nodded at Ginny, who gave Harry a worried look and a squeeze on the hand before hurrying away.

Dumbledore brought Harry to his office, looking furious about something.

"Harry," he finally spoke.

"Yes, Professor?"

"The Minister wants to discuss some problems with you. Brace yourself, and please don't lose your temper, we cannot afford to have the ministry working against us. Things are bad enough with the ministry as it is. Just leave everything for me."

Harry didn't respond, but he was determined to handle the affair by himself. _Leave the rest for you?_ He thought dryly. _You've messed up my life enough._

"Nosebleed Nougat," Dumbledore muttered as they reached the gargoyle, and Harry would have laughed at the choice of password if the situation weren't so serious. He suddenly felt a flare in his chest, an alien confidence as he waited behind Dumbledore.

The Gargoyle jumped aside. They didn't wait for the spiraling wooden stairs leading to the office door; Dumbledore rushed up the steps with surprising agility for an old man, and Harry stuck closely behind.

During Harry's last visit, half of the Headmaster's possessions inside this room were destroyed as a result of his long subdued anger. Now the twinkling, smoking little mechanisms had been repaired and the room looked same as before, except for the six people inside.

Professor McGonagall was standing next to the Headmaster's desk, fuming silently. Surprisingly, Snape was also present, cold anger lining every feature of his face. Fudge and Percy were also there, sitting nervously next to the fireplace. But what truly alarmed Harry was a grey haired figure, whom Harry recognized as the Auror Dawlish. His companion was a man Harry didn't know, but from the forced and unnatural air of calmness, which Harry found a little amusing, he guessed that this person was another Auror.

Fudge stood up, and the Aurors straightened automatically.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. Long time no see," he said, extending a hand, his face twitching nervously. Harry noticed that he was thinner than before. "How are you?"

Harry accepted the handshake with an ironic smile. "I'm fine, Minister, and needless to say, you're not doing as good as I am, given – well – the circumstances."

Fudge gulped, unprepared for such an answer. Harry let go of Fudge's hand and looked at Dumbledore questioningly.

Dumbledore frowned at him, his eyes narrowed warningly. Professor Snape, however, seemed to be fighting down a smile.

"Well, Harry, I shall try to explain the – circumstance," Fudge said carefully. Harry tensed, detecting the gleeful edge in his voice. "Thanks partly to you, we are finally aware of the fact that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned and is once more among us, and for that, we are grateful. While I am made aware of the dangerous situation, however, sources suggest that _you,_ seem to be his prime target ever since his return."

Harry didn't like the way he stressed the word "you", but he said nothing. Snape caught Harry's eye and tilted his head slightly towards the Aurors. Harry ignored him.

"Let's begin then, shall we?" Fudge said with an inappropriately nasty smile. "From what the Headmaster told me, in your fourth year, Barty Crouch Junior cheated the Goblet of Fire so that you may entire the Triwizard Tournament as the fourth champion. The plan was to make sure you are the one who grasps the Triwizard Cup in victory only to be Portkeyed to You Know Who, whom with your help, returned to life."

Harry almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Dumbledore opened his mouth as if to speak, but Harry quickly interrupted. "_With my help?_" he said, glancing amusedly at Dumbledore's jaws snapping shut. "If it had been my _help_, I doubt I needed to be tied to a grave stone, have my arm cut open and then tortured with the Cruciatus several times."

Fudge ignored him and continued. Dumbledore's frown deepened.

"In your fifth year, it seemed that the Dark Lord spent a full year trying to lure you into the Department of Mystery to kill you, and again he failed. Then, just over two months ago, Diagon Ally was attacked, and this time," Fudge's voice was slightly higher than usual. "A signature was left behind: _this is for you, Harry Potter_."

He paused for effect, his mouth widened with sickening pleasure.

"It may be a mere coincidence of events, we know, but we can not neglect the fact that just a week ago Hogwarts was also attacked. The central target of this attack, as we rightly assumed and informed by ministry spies, was again _you_."

"And?" Harry asked, now catching a glimpse of Fudge's purpose here. His hand, which had been stuffed casually into his wand pocked, now grasped his wand.

"With his power, we _fear_ for your chances of escaping him," Fudge informed, his head bowed.

"Minister, I must say I am touched by your concern," Harry bowed back sarcastically. Dumbledore frowned even more.

"Well, he is, after all, the most powerful wizard on earth," Fudge said nervously, glancing at Dumbledore, who looked more and more displeased at Harry's way of handling the conversation. "While you are just a normal teenage wizard with no special talent."

"I am?" Harry couldn't help but smirk a little. "And your solution to that little problem is?"

Fudge ignored the question and went on resolutely. "It is the duty of the Ministry of Magic to ensure the safety of his people. Mr. Potter, You are a danger to those around you, a danger to Hogwarts, a danger to the magical community, because the Dark Lord will never stop looking for you. Cedric Diggory, Bertha Jorkins and a muggle old man were the first to be your victims. Sirius Black, innocent or not, was your second, and the hundreds of innocent muggles and wizards died during the Diagon Ally attack was your thir -"

Harry was tired of the game now, but he couldn't help but feeling again the familiar pang of guilt. He was also aware of the fact that the Aurors' hands were fastened on something inside their robes – wands, presumably to seize him by force is necessary.

"Get to your point, Fudge," Harry interrupted warily.

Fudge's eyes widened in shock at the change of tone - nobody aside from Dumbledore dared to speak to him like this before. He swallowed and continued. "We ask you, for the sake of Hogwarts, to leave this ground; we further suggest that you leave the magical community altogether to avoid the magical population being targeted because of you. It is in my – our belief, that once you disappear, the Dark Lord may reduce the havoc he's making while in search of you."

For a moment, nobody spoke. Snape's eyes narrowed warningly, and surprisingly for Harry, the potion master turned to face the Aurors, scowling as his hand entered his pocket. Professor McGonagall's lips were drawn in a very thin line as she glared at the Minister in disgust. Dumbledore, however, gazed intently at Harry, waiting for his response.

Finally, Harry burst out laughing.

It was as if ten Harry Potter guffawed in the small office. The delicate silver instruments trembled slightly on their shelves. The laughter gradually grew from one of pure amusement to a high-pitched, cold and merciless one. Snape stared at Harry in complete shock and disbelief, his mouse wide open, his eyes glinting in recognition. Fudge winced, while Percy shivered slightly. Only Dumbledore remained unaffected as he watched Harry with a calculating frown.

"Well, what is your answer, Mr Potter?" Percy's slightly shaky voice reached him.

Harry swallowed and panted for air, after a while, he straightened, still giggling.

Dumbledore's brows knotted together on his forehead. He cleared his throat and interrupted.

"Harry, calm down. Please, this is the Minister of Magic," the old man said, his beard twitching, his blue eyes locked onto Harry's, passing forth an unspoken message. _What are you doing Harry? This is very irresponsible of you. I can not risk angering the minister of magic at this time, we need him on our side. Let me speak to him. _

Harry calmed down a little, but still breathing heavily. He ignored the little Legilimency session as if he didn't hear the angry voice inside his head. "I'm sorry, Minister, but that was about the most ridiculous advice I've ever heard in my entire life."

"Mr. Potter," Fudge scowled, trembling in rage but also in fear. "I suggest you consider my counsel carefully. You are endangering the Magical Community and you must be removed. I am asking for your free will and the ministry will ensure provisions for you once you left the Magical World. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise what?" Harry glared at him coldly. "You're going to set these two on me?"

He tilted his head towards the Aurors, who were itching towards him centimeter by centimeter. Hearing this, they suddenly froze, unsure of what to do. Percy, on the other hand, almost bristled.

"Harry Potter, please remember who you are talking to," he whispered fiercely.

"Shut your mouth," Harry snapped at him and the small flame in the fireplace flared up as if someone dropped a whole bowl of Floo powder. Percy shut up instantly, his neck reddening. "I don't need to be told what to do by a man who turned on his own family. You may be the Minister's junior assistance, but you're still an ungrateful dick who betrayed those loved and cared for him. You can't even stand up and apologize like a man when you're proved wrong. According to you, I'm supposed to be _unbalanced and possibly violent_, so please remember what you said and shut the fuck up before I do it for you."

He turned to Fudge, who took a wavering step back.

"I've considered, _Minister_," Harry spat, glaring at him coldly. "Please hear this: Voldemort will not be content seeing me disappear. He will rip your so-called community to pieces looking for every trace of my existence. In the end, when he couldn't find me, what then? He will turn to the rest of you. You should be glad that his attention is focused on me at the moment, because you have no clue how that bastard tortures people, how he kills…"

Harry paused looking around them. He found the twitching Aurors rudely distracting and waved a hand at them. Before the Aurors realized what had happened, they were both hit by the full body bind spell.

"So that's a 'no' to your proposal. Any questions?" continued Harry, his eyes sweeping across the room.

Percy almost trembled with rage, but Fudge only smiled knowingly.

"Ah, I expected that from you, Potter. This is the last straw. I'm warning you, you're obstructing ministry affair. As Minister of magic I can warrant your arrest any moment and throw you into Azkaban, so you bett-" his gleeful words were cut off again by maddening laughter.

Fudge suddenly felt fear creeping up his spine. The laugh, it unnerved him. He gestured nervously at the Aurors, who had been staring in Harry's direction unseeingly for several minutes.

Harry's maniacal laughter went on, the magically lit chandeliers dimmed, as if blown by a blast of cold wind. Harry's laughter swept past every person's face, many of the figures in the portraits on the wall stuffed their hands forcefully onto their ears, wincing and screwing up their eyes. Swallowing, he spoke again.

"No wonder, Fudge, no wonder why so many people choose to join the Death Eaters, if this is how you treat people on your side," Harry's laughter died away slowly. "The Ministry is at war with Voldemort, not those persecuted by him. If you waste time and energy capturing his enemies, then you are doing a big favor for him. On the other hand, this does make me wonder… it makes me wonder about where your loyalty truly lies," Harry whispered, taking a step towards him.

Percy seemed too stricken to speak. Fudge beckoned at the frozen Aurors in panic and backed away from Harry.

"Tell me, _Minister_, do you like your job?" Harry continued to tower towards Fudge. There were no more ironic smiles on his youthful face, no more amused expressions in the emerald eyes. There was cold fury beneath every syllable he spoke. Fudge was reminded of Albus Dumbledore when angered, but whereas Dumbledore has an aura of power that invites amazement and respect, Harry reminded him of something cold and merciless like fear itself. Fudge crumbled to the floor, whimpering like a wounded dog.

"No response? Shall I take it as an 'yes' then?" Harry smiled coldly. "Well, imagine tomorrow's headline in the _Daily Prophet_: _Minister of Magic Aligned With You Know Who and threatens the Boy Who Lived_. I think Rita Skeeter would gladly take the job of writing it, and knowing her, the article could be anything. It would be interesting for the Magical Population to know _why_ you have neglected the return of Voldemort for so long, or the fact that last year you had installed an incompetent Defense teacher who physically abused students on detention and threatened to perform the Cruciatus on them. Oh yes, and what do you think the people will think, if I tell them you tried to arrest the great _Harry Potter_ by force, because apparently you do not wish to work against the Dark Lord?"

"Wha – what do you want?" Fudge stammered, glancing pleadingly at Dumbledore and the teachers, who only gaped at Harry in response. McGonagall's lips twitched unpleasantly as if she wanted to intervene, but Dumbledore silenced her with a warning glance.

"You made a mistake coming here tonight. From now on, you will not interfere with Hogwarts' business, you will not bother me again and you _will_ do what Professor Dumbledore advises you to do concerning fighting Voldemort," said Harry, straightening his rob cheerfully, smirking at the Headmaster "Otherwise, I have the perfect way of retrieving our conversation on the night after the Triwizard Tournament _and_ our conversation tonight for certain attractive, if _bugging_, journalist."

"I – you – "

Harry turned his back on him and glanced at his watch: seven thirty.

"I think that's it for tonight," he declared casually. "By the way, if you had any brains you would have looked at these useless Aurors before bringing them here, apparently they're under some kind of Body Bind spell. How did you move them here is beyond me."

With that, Harry left the room, ignoring the rest. McGonagall seemed to be seething, Fudge stared after him with his mouth wide open while Snape fought down a smile and Dumbledore's eyes were furious.

Fire, Harry thought. Everything seemed ablaze with a dark flame. The hazy walls were tinged with a murky crimson, the stained glass windows became crystals of radiant darkness. It was as if the world was burning up with the element of his rage.

And he was burning with it.

The anger that had been building up in him reached a boiling point. Every step away from the Headmaster's office pushed him further from control. He rushed down the stairs to the most isolated place he could think of – Myrtle's bathroom.

The bathroom was as unpleasant as he remembered. Other than the dim light and slightly spooky atmosphere, the place also had a damp, mossy smell. But he was beyond caring now, anywhere was better than the Great Hall or the common room.

Harry stared at his own angry face in a dirty mirror. He absently pulled off a piece of dry skin on his lower lip. What followed was a jolt of pain that run all the way down along his chin into his chest, and then there was an ongoing throb - almost an exiting feeling. He watched a drop of blood trickling down his chin and rested on a thin patch of facial hair. There wasn't enough of it to make it fall. He pinched the wound and more blood oozed out sluggishly until it began to drip off his chin. Uncontrollable fury suddenly rose from the depth of his mind, and Harry punched the mirror with all his might. A little magic went into the punch as the Graphorn glove he was wearing suddenly split into pieces like dried, grey leather and burnt up in a flare of black. His fist embedded heavily into the mirror with a sickening crunch, part of the wall behind shattered with the glass. Shards of glass embedded into the skin of his right hand, piercing his bones; large splashes of blood splattered on the damp, dirty floor. He banged his head against the wall like a madman as he screamed at the dampness and shadows.

The wordless screams of anger and despair subsided after a moment. Harry collapsed on the dirty floor that was now dotted with drips of blood. He laughed - a dry, choking laugh. It was almost funny. He had worked so hard to protect those around him, yet they again managed to stab him in the back. It was an empty feeling, as if everything he once lived for now existed no more. There was no more love, no more warmth, only a gaping vacuum waiting to be filled by something.

_Anything. _

And then Harry felt power flare in him, he could taste a hunger for blood and urge to kill on his tongue, once more engulfed in the black flames of his dark rage. It was as if his bitterness tore open a hole in his soul, one that was starving to be filled with something, or it would consume himself. He clenched his fists so tight that his nails began to biting into the skin, shards of broken glass twisted painfully in his right fist but he ignored it. All he wanted to do at the moment was to take up his wand and kill, to feel powerful and in control like he did on the day when he killed the giant. He allowed the power burn him, swallowing him in an invisible fire struggling for release. The urge was unstoppable and he felt himself burn, burning with a desire never felt before.

He remained in this position, crouched on the floor until he lost count of time. When the power of fury was finally spent, he was left drenching with guilt, which scarcely felt better. Sirius's face swirled around in Harry's head, soon joined with images of Cedric and hundreds of nameless muggles and wizards. He lied there for what seemed to be an eternity, moaning softly like some helpless, wounded beast.

After a while, when even the guilt passed away, Harry made a decision. He will not sit back and allow the others to control his life again. Dumbledore's reaction particularly disappointed him today; it made him realize that being caught up in a war made Dumbledore a different person, not some one he could count on. He didn't know what happened during the summer, but whatever it was, it definitely affected the Order's approach to the war – more caution and more politics.

Fine, if that's how they want to deal with Voldemort, then they can do it. He didn't care anymore. Unlike them, he had a destiny. He could never have peace until that destiny was fulfilled.

Harry felt a cold draught of air surrounded him, interrupting his thoughts, and then his bloodshot eyes where suddenly level with bloodless pale ones. Mourning Myrtle.

"Are you alright Harry?" asked Myrtle sadly, concerned in her own ghastly way. "I was in the Prefect's bathroom when I thought I heard your scream. I could have come sooner but - well - some fifth year girls distracted me. All that moaning, you would've liked it. Girls playing like that is hard to see, you know."

She giggled and blushed silver.

Harry coughed and choked. His sweat mingled with his blood and ashes of what used to be his Graphorn glove right hand, forming a muddy mixture on the floor. He nodded and pushed himself straight. His right hand was now a bloody mess, twitching uncontrollably.

"You haven't been here lately," Myrtle gazed at him miserable through her ghostly spectacles. "It's awfully lonely being a ghost you know that? And I would go and get that hand checked out if I were you, looks like you've dropped a chunk of cement on it."

Harry didn't speak. He leaned on the cool wall below the sink, feeling calmer as his power drained away. Myrtle continued to scrutinize him.

"Well, you haven't been to see me, but I've seen you loads of times," She giggled slightly again. "You've certainly _grown_. You could make a name for yourself in the Hogwarts night circle if you want to, you know? Girls would be dying to have a go at that – well, you get me."

Harry nodded at her, not taking anything in. His attention was focused somewhere else. He stared at tap two sinks away from him. There was a little snake carved on its side that marked the entrance to the chamber of secret.

At that moment, everything else was lost to him.

_Maybe, just maybe, there can be a quiet place for me to have some peace after all._ Harry thought, his mind clearing. _Why haven't I thought about coming back to the Chamber of Secret? _

Harry secretly decided to come back tomorrow night to investigate. After all, he was the only person in the school who can open the Chamber. It was practically his domain. The darkness and the secrecy of it all appealed to him. He climbed up to leave.

"Oh, leaving already? So soon," muttered Myrtle miserably.

Harry felt faint and sick. His vision swirled a little before returning to normal. He checked his watch to see that it was nearly ten o'clock, and he had missed the meeting with Silvia.

" - be back again," Harry managed before stumbling out of the bathroom.

He made his way slowly to the infirmary, half leaning the wall for support. He felt ashamed for nearly losing control again. Moreover, he felt disgusted with himself for thinking about killing people.

_I'm not Voldemort,_ he thought furiously to himself. _And I'm not, never, bloodthirsty. I'm not evil. _

_Really?_ Another voice retorted in his brain. That familiar voice was back. _Who was it that wanted to smash up the entire school? Who was it that wanted to torture Fudge's entire family to death until they begged for mercy? Who was it that wanted to prove himself to be stronger than Dumbledore? Who was it that wanted immortali – "_

'SHUT UP!' Harry screamed at himself, his voice reverberating in the empty corridor.

His thoughts were confusing. Harry never wanted to be stronger than Dumbledore, and he definitely never wanted immorality. In fact, the only person who was so obsessed with preventing death was Voldemort himself. Harry half-stood against a wall, staring into the shadows pensively. His head hurt and a small part of his brain still scolded him for being overemotional.

As soon as his brain begun working again, however, another thought struck him. Filch. Harry realized he was wandering in the corridors after hours and if Filch the caretaker catches him, he would almost surely be sent to Snape. He regretted thinking this almost immediately, as -

"POTTER!"

It was the unmistakable battle cry of Filch, as if he can read mind. Harry saw light in front of him as the caretaker's hurried scuffling on the floor approached.

"Outside your common room after hours again, Potter," he roared gloatingly. "Very well, I've had special order from Professor Snape himself to bring you to him, come on then."

Filch never really forgave Harry for petrifying his beloved cat Mrs Norris during Harry's second year, even though it wasn't Harry's fault. Now his disgusting pouchy face and bulging, pale eyes dangled before Harry's.

"This time I'll see you expelled, Potter," he whispered softly. "After what you did to Mr. Norris three years ago, you're lucky I haven't whipped you raw."

His bony hands found their way to the front of Harry's rob and he grabbed him to a standing position forcefully.

"Come with me, we'll go to professor Snape. May be he'll let me have some fun after all," Filch begun dragging Harry towards the stairs, ignoring Harry's bleeding hand. "I'll enjoy gutting you, you little prick."

Harry was feeling too weak to struggle. Snape was the last person he wanted to see right now. Although he was sure Dumbledore would never expel him (_nor would he dare, he can't piss me. I'm the key to defeating Voldemort_, thought Harry bitterly), he wasn't in the mood for humiliations. Not after feeling homicidal two hours ago. He began to shake violently against the hand that grabbed him.

"Leggo of me, leggo you old –"

"What is going on here?"

Filch stopped half-dragging, half-choking Harry and turned. At the foot of the stairs stood the only person who could make Harry feeling relieved in his situation – Silvia. She was wearing her daily rob and she looked livid.

"LEAVE HIM NOW FILCH," Silvia roared, making Filch wince and cower in fear.

"But Po-Potter, Professor, he's out of his common room after curfew, Professor Snape – "

" - is an idiot and can go screw himself," Silvia growled, interrupting his stuttering that begun to give Harry a headache. "I'll take over from here."

She stalked towards Filch like a panther and snatched Harry from his death-grip. Filch looked down at his shoe, whispering in displeasure.

"I heard you Filch," Silvia snapped as she escorted Harry towards her office. "Tell Snape Harry's with me if you want, I doubt he would dare to do anything.

With that, Filch was left behind whimpering. Silvia didn't speak again as she half-dragged, half-carried Harry to her office, where she promptly stuffed him into a squashy armchair.

"What happened to you Harry?" she asked, studying his hand carefully. "And don't speak until I clean you up."

She took some bandage and then went bustling around muttering something about cleaning potion. Harry took the liberty to looking around her room curiously. He had visited this office under four of its previous occupants. When the big-headed fraud Gildereroy Lockhart had lived here, the walls have been covered with pictures of himself flashing his trademark smile. In the days of Lupin, the room was also shared with some fascinating Dark Creature you would encounter in his class. When the imposter Moody occupied here, the room was some kind of museum displaying all kind of Dark Art detectors, demonstrating, pretended or not, Moody's paranoia. Last year, during the reign of Umbridge, the room was plastered with lacy covers and cloths. Here and there were vases of dried flowers and on one wall she hung a collection of ornamental plates showing ugly kittens with different colored bow around their neck.

Silvia's office, however, seemed to be a mixture of all of them. In a corner stood an old, battered trunk that begun shaking violently as soon as Harry set his eyes on it. Harry was sure it contained a Boggart. The walls were decorated with navy-blue wallpapers. There was a photo of Silvia and– Harry gulped – his mother at the age of around sixteen, looking strangely like Ginny Weasley. The room was brightly lit with floating candles and chandelier. Silvia's desk was right beneath the chandelier while surrounding the wall were several squashy armchairs and couches. There was a small Foe-Glass on her table showing blurry figures moving around inside it.

"Like my room, Harry?" Silvia asked, kneeling in front of him. She waved her wand at Harry's hand and used a simple summoning charm to clean out the shards of glass and pieces of rock. "What the hell did you do with your hand? Didn't you get a Graphorn glove for birthday?"

The wound on his hand, which had dried up a while ago, now started to throb and bleed heavily again. Silvia cleaned the wound with a dab of some purple liquid which smoked on his hand and stung like hell. She poked the wound with her wand in a Madam Pomfreyish fashion, but the hand remained swollen and bleeding.

"Bloody hell, whatever you did, the wound can't be healed with magic, so I guess we just have to stick with the muggle way," she muttered darkly as she dressed the wound carefully with bandage soaked in some kind of cool liquid that eased the pain considerably. "Don't move your hand for the rest of the day and tomorrow and you should be ok. The potion should help your hand to heal faster."

She used a cleaning charm (without her wand this time) to clear up the mess on the floor and Harry's clothes.

"I guess - " she said flatly after a minute of silence as they stared at each other. " – that you punched a mirror somewhere. You were angry so a little magic went into that punch. You accidentally used the Reductor curse that shattered your Graphorn glove and smashed off a little bit of the wall behind. You also missed your meeting with me at eight. Ginny came to see me around nine o'clock because she got worried about you," she smirked as she said this. "I told her you were in a meeting with Mr. Fudge. So, what happened?"

Harry was surprised to hear Silvia retrieving the event so accurately. He considered a moment and spoke.

"Basically, Fudge wanted me to disappear from the Magical World because he thinks I'm the main target of Voldemort," Harry breathed heavily, indignation flaring up again. "I don't know where he learned it from, but he knew my greatest weakness – the feeling of guilt I had. He started all this guilt attack. I wasn't going to take it, so I threatened him with the power of the press. But Dumbledore, he didn't help at all. He just stood there and watched Fudge threatening to arrest me. He kept scolding me in my head for being irresponsible."

Silvia studied him thoughtfully for a minute, her brows furrowed. Harry couldn't help but notice that at the age of thirty, she still looked rather cute in a little-girlish way. He squashed the thought furiously, feeling ashamed.

"Why are you blushing, Harry?" asked Silvia in confusion. "Never mind that though, I guess Dumbledore is a little angry with you then?"

Harry stared fixedly at the floor, realizing for the first time since he left the headmaster's office, that he had deliberately ignored Dumbledore's instructions.

"Yes, suppose he is," he muttered. "But I can't just let him control everything in my life. He's messed up so many things, I think I trust myself better."

Silvia studied him again, her piercing black eyes watching him searchingly. Finally, she responded with a sigh. "I suppose you're right, although Dumbledore may not agree with me, I think it is time for you to make your own decisions on how to fight Voldemort. You are, after all, the last hope of mankind."

She smirked as she said this, but Harry was cheered up none the less.

Silvia fell into another pensive trance, leaving Harry staring, puzzled. She studied her nails, raised her hand and started gnawing them unconsciously as she considered something. Finally she turned back and spoke to Harry.

"Harry I would like you to do something," she asked tentatively, sounding nervous, even afraid. "I would like you to try and focus your magic again.

Harry, feeling confused and curious, complied.

Silvia stood up and took out her wand. She quickly muttered something, closing her eyes in concentration. She waved her wand in a twirling action and bent over to tap the wand at the floor. In an instant, a milky substance began pouring out of her wand tip and coated everything in the room.

"It's the strongest shield charm I know," she explained. "I want you to try to focus your magic again like I taught you at Privet Drive, I'll explain why later and I don't want you to blow up the entire school. This shield should stop you if something goes wrong. It would be better if you don't tell anyone about this shield, because it's classified as Dark Magic by the ministry. Come on then."

Silvia stood aside to give Harry room. Harry noticed that Silvia herself was also wrapped in the milky substance. The shield enclosed Harry completely in layers. Everything outside seemed over bright and blurred. Harry closed his eyes, his perception rendered inside his body, searching every corner of his soul for his magic. He forced all his power into a ball, feeling the familiar wrenching feeling in his bloodstream.

Then he heard Silvia gasp.

Harry opened his eyes slowly. Hovering between his hand in front of his abdomen was the familiar power ball. It was much bigger than what he remembered, and it also had a different color.

The magic ball, hovering and struggling furiously trying to break free, was no longer Patronus-white. The outer layer of the ball was still transparent silver, tinged with grey; but the inside of the ball was woven with gloom like the stormy night sky outside.

Silvia's shield charm instantly flared up, preparing for impact. There was loud grinding sound, followed by a bright light, and then everything suddenly ceased to exist. It was total darkness, as if light itself had been swallowed up. Silvia heard Harry whisper something

"_Oops_ … "

And then she passed out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen:**

**The Serpent's Lair**

Harry stared at the shimmering ball before him. It looked almost liquid, with gas-like exterior that continually swirled in all directions before being sucked back, rippling. The surface of the ball was moving ceaselessly, viscous like molten lava. Here and there the globe would burst open to release some dark-grayish, cloudy substance that vaporized as soon after it met the air.

Sometimes during this process, he stopped feeling empty. He didn't know how exactly that happened, but the vacuum in his mind was being filled by something.

Silvia's shield began to waver. The milky substance coating the room seemed to melt, drips of it broke off and soared towards the small blazing ball between Harry's hands like liquid mercury. The power ball burned with cool, graceful fire when the magic touched it, growing bigger and bigger until Harry lost control. It zoomed off like a wild dog, absorbing everything in its way. It was as if Silvia's spell was filtered by the power ball. Whatever the globe absorbed was passed into Harry's body as he stood slightly breathless. Power poured into him, feeding his hunger. He was astonished at how much magic Silvia put into one single spell, but whatever power the shield held, it belonged to him now.

He took a moment to get back his breath. He panted heavily, placing his hand on his knees as he bowed over. He felt elated, and never so alive. Somewhere next to him, the globe stopped moving. It hovered in mid air, floating up and down as if it had wings. The power ball had lost every trace of silver. It was darker than midnight, like a void sucking in every bit of magic around it.

Silvia groaned next to him and climbed up from the floor. Strange – Harry didn't even notice that she passed out.

"Well Harry, that wasn't expected."

She seemed particularly grave as she made this comment. Her face was still filled with surprise, unbelief, and to Harry's bitter disappointment – fear. There was something else as well – she looked older, weary, diminished. Her usually glowing skin looked wrinkled and dusty like that of an old woman. Harry looked at her questioningly, too tired to speak.

"Yes, I guess I have some explaining to do," she said, climbing into the nearest chair and taking a sip from a flask. "First of all, I wasn't expecting so much power from you. The Mind Magic is like a muscle, the more you exercise it, the stronger it becomes, yet it has a limit, one which you've just exceeded."

Harry climbed into a squashy couch as he listened attentively to Silvia's explanations, fishing for every bit of information that might make him more powerful.

He wasn't feeling dead anymore. In fact, he never felt more alive. He felt nourished, infinitely confident. At some subconscious level, he knew it was too strange. He had absorbed Silvia's shield completely, and it left him even more ravenous. He also couldn't think straight.

The hunger was getting unbearable. Part of him wanted to bring out the globe again and toss it at Silvia. She was definitely powerful enough to satisfy him. Hopelessly he watched the dark globe surfacing. Something was stirring in it, the murky darkness that was there before was replaced by something solid, something alive.

_Stop it! _

Harry commanded. He broke free of the invisible barrier that confined his rational thought and took control again. Whatever it was inside that globe looked at him innocently. It disappeared, merging again into his soul.

Meanwhile, Silvia was still speaking in a monotonous voice, completely unaware.

" - the Mind Magic is also - stupid it may sounds - alive," Silvia stated, biting her lower lips, not really looking at Harry. "It has its own personality, emotions and preference, which is why it works differently for different person. I'm best at protective charms because my magic is very defensive. It's also slightly blue when I focus it – "

Harry breathed a sigh in relief. Silvia was behaving very strangely, but at least she didn't notice the thoughts that went on in his head a minute ago. It was strange. Usually she was very good at picking up people's emotions.

"Does the colour mean anything?" Harry interrupted, trying to distract her. He wanted to get out. His stomach was rumbling – _real_ hunger this time.

Silvia raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes it does. Black could represent several things. Not evil necessarily. I haven't seen anything like yours though. It's almost real, which should be impossible because power is an ethereal, abstract thing. Metaphorically speaking, Mind Magic is focusing your soul. In your case, it seems that you are really focusing your soul, giving it a shape – which is impossible, because that's like changing the physical law of the world."

Silvia groaned again. Harry was becoming a little alarmed. She looked so pale – as if some of her life disappeared with her shield charm to become a part of him. He glanced at the clock – it'd be midnight soon.

"Don't get worked up about it, Harry, even my magic gets black sometimes," Silvia turned back to her desk absently. "Go and get some rest, and do remember to practice Shadow Boxing more often. I think you can start working on the Gryffindor book now, I left it in your trunk. Since I can't read whatever it is in the book, I can't help you. Ask me if you don't understand something. Now be good and go to bed, I don't know what's wrong with me, but I need to sleep."

Her words had an obvious tone of finality in them, so Harry shrugged and left the room. He felt slightly guilty for whatever he did to Silvia, but at the same time, he was pleasantly surprised by this new talent.

Something was wrong with him, his instinct told him that much. It began with that annoying voice in his head, and now his power ball was gradually taking a physical shape. It wasn't normal, and he was going to find out why.

Harry spent the next two weeks in search for information he could use to train himself. Lessons became easy and dull as Shadow Boxing training sharpened his concentration and memory, so he spent his spare time looking for spell books in the library and making copies of them to study in the Room of Requirement. He also 'dutifully' avoided his friends whenever possible, in the hope that they would be spared the fate of being targeted by Death Eaters. The anger he felt during the meeting with Fudge in Dumbledore's office had long subsided and now crystallized into a little hard spot, which Harry tucked away carefully under a veneer of pretended indifference towards everything that goes on around him. During break and lunchtime, he took refuge in the Room of Requirement and memorized spells like a sponge; during the night he sneaked into the restricted section of the library and munched his way through shelf after shelf, learning everything from the darkest of magic to some ridiculously ancient house holding charms. He practiced Shadow Boxing every night, meditating as he was supposed to do for Occlumency. Strangely, Harry found himself requiring less and less time to sleep, averaging four hours per night. But this suited him fine, as he made use of the time exploring the darker sides of his magical ability. So absorbed was he in trying to gain more power that on a Tuesday morning, when Professor McGonagall came to speak to him after breakfast, he took several minutes to understand the phrase _Quidditch Captain_.

" – Potter! Did you not hear me? Katie Bell turned down the position of Quidditch Captain, so you are obviously the only other logical choice, as you've been in the team long enough," she said, glaring at him while students rushed to their classes on their side.

Harry looked over to Ron, who had a dreamy smile as he took Hermione's hand to help her up, while Ginny rolled her eyes and made a retching gesture. Obviously they hadn't heard a word of what McGonagall had just said, but this had been common recently, as they had been neglecting him ever since Harry refused to tell them what happened with Fudge. They feel irritated at his self-segregation, and stilled believed that he unable to get over Sirius. Ron even told him that he had gone too far, that life goes on and he couldn't hide in the past forever, living in misery and expect others to comfort him. His friends had moved on from pity, now they despise him. Harry didn't hate them for it, for him, Ron was still Ron, always his best mate. H

He suddenly had an idea of who was to be the Captain of Gryffindor. For Harry's part, he hadn't really thought about being Quidditch captain before. He doesn't know Quidditch enough. Maybe he was a natural flier, but there were more to leading a team than being able to fly well. Ron would be a much better candidate, Ron who thinks about Quidditch every minute when he wasn't thinking about Hermione, Ron who grew up loving the game passionately.

It only took him a moment to decide his answer. He looked up to Professor McGonagall, who had been treating him ever so coldly since the Fudge incident.

"Professor, I really don't think I should have the job," Harry said softly.

McGonagall looked over at him in shock.

"Oh yeah?" she said, raising her eyebrows and stretching her lips very thin.

"Yes. I recommend Ron. Quidditch isn't only about flying, but also tactics. Ron is amazing at chess, as you know, and he also has an excellent knowledge of the game, better than me anyway," Harry responded, shrugging.

"Well, I'm surprised to hear you say that, it's a very mature decision. Yes, I agree with you," McGonagall's face relaxed a little, some of her coldness towards Harry disappearing. "Well, shouldn't you be running along to tell him the good news? Gryffindor Quidditch team tryout will be held on the last Friday of October. It's later than usual, because we were preoccupied with protections that have to be placed on the Quidditch pitch first, and you should tell him about that too."

"Sorry Professor, but I think you should tell him," Harry stated with a sad smile. On his left side, Ron and Hermione marched away hand in hand without a glance at him. Ginny gave him a small nod with a grim expression, but then she turned to Colin Creevey and smiled sunnily, much like her normal, cheerful self.

McGonagall watched as Ron and Hermione walked passed, watched as Harry smiled bitterly to himself – an expression that often hang on his face recently. Something flickered in her eyes, almost like pity.

"Well Harry, I respect your decision. I'll tell him," she said with a surprisingly gentle tone. But Harry kept his cool composure and nodded.

"Another thing," said Professor McGonagall sternly as Harry took several steps away from her to grab his bag. The Great Hall was completely deserted except them now. Harry stopped, and looked up at the stormy ceiling without turning.

"When are you going to stop this depressive attitude, Potter? Don't think we staff don't notice. We've watched you closer than you know. What have you been doing lately? Have you looked at yourself in a mirror? You're deathly pale, with grey patch under your eyes. You walk around without even a smile on your face and you can't seem to see what's in your way. You always appear thoughtful and exhausted. You've also had 3 detentions in a row and lost 100 house points because you've adapted this habit of cursing anyone who gets into your way. What have you been doing?"

Harry smiled bitterly again, brushing strands of loose, dark hair away from his face. He turned and looked at Professor McGonagall in the eye, revealing for the first time in weeks his newly gained confidence. _If the staffs are watching, better let them know_.

"Please tell the Headmaster something for me. I've been learning to control my own life," Harry whispered softly, crude sense of power in every syllable he spoke. "Tell him there is nothing wrong with me; tell him to remember that like everyone else, I want to live and I'm willing to do anything to make sure of that, despite everything fate has to offer. He should know what I'm talking about."

He turned and swept silently out of the Great Hall. With a wave of his hand, his backs zoomed after him.

"So, as I was saying, you will not be allowed to attempt the Animagus transformation until the seventh year, but I always believe that the theory behind this particular branch of magic is very useful in helping us understand human Transformation, which covers a large percentage of your syllabus this term…"

It was their last lesson on Tuesday, double Transformation. Normally Harry wouldn't have bothered listening, because he found Transfiguration relatively easy. But this time, his entire attention was focused on Professor McGonagall's face.

" – we will be learning about the theory of Animagus Transformation today. The theory is easy to grasp. It's the depth of concentration and amount of magical power that usually keeps one from accomplishing it," Professor McGonagall glanced across the room, stopping for a second on Harry before moving on. "To become an animal, you must first understand it. One can only have a single Animagus form, because only one animal could truly represent your personality, your way of life. You are bonded to the animal and that animal alone."

She suddenly changed to a large cat and back.

"Usually, one begins his Animagus training by identifying the animal that represents him. Just out of interest, I want you to try it too. Try to calm your mind and look for an image of an animal in your mind. The information is stored in the unconscious part of your brain, but you can still uncover it."

Harry, feeling curious, obeyed. He closed his mind and within seconds, blocked off the world from himself. His consciousness swimmed in a mass of thoughts, looking for an animal and feeling stupid as he did so. After a few minutes, he sensed something within him that he'd seen before. It was an egg, a black egg burning with liquid-like dark flame.

A jolt of alarm shot through his system. He knew what the egg was, he'd felt it before.

Ever after the incident with Silvia, Harry worked to master Mind Magic. He called his power ball the Soul Orb, every time he called for it, he felt as if his soul had been torn open. It was a formidable weapon, but it was also a threat. If it ever broke free again, it might kill someone. Silvia wasn't helping him anymore. In fact, she tried to avoid his eyes. It'd been two weeks since that accident, yet she still looked half-dead. Without Silvia to help him, Harry's progress was slow. He still wasn't able to do complicated spells wandlessly, but at least now he knew what he could do. With the Soul Orb as it was, he could do anything.

And so Harry locked himself in the Room of Requirement, unleashing his full power until his mind was saturated by hunger. He allowed himself to be consumed, burning off every drop of emotion – everything that made him human. He had nightmares, he watched himself roasting alive, his skin browning with the most delicious smell … he dreamed about his chest exploding open, and writhing shadow bursting out …

These dreams were nothing, though, when compared with the vision that haunted him during the day. Day after day he imagined himself draining another person's life dry – sometimes Ron's, sometimes Hermione's and sometimes Ginny's. He didn't know what kind of _disease_ he had, but the chasm within him was growing larger and larger. It was as if something was eating him from within, devouring his soul and magic, yet everyday leaving him more powerful than befre. And then there were voices … before it was one person talking to him, now there were many. They have discussions in his head, mocking the conversation he used to have with Ron and Hermione. They discussed how to betray him, torture him, they talked of his loneliness. Slowly, his mind began to decay.

They grew stronger too. Harry could feel it. As his strength wanes, the voices became more tangible, and every word they spoke now gave him a booming headache. The only thing that helped him now was his Soul Orb. When the voices became unbearable, he brought it out, looking for a small sliver of comfort in exchange of a chunk of his soul.

_The egg suddenly cracked open. _

Harry quickly pulled out and looked around. He'd be so lost in thought that he wasn't aware of the lesson anymore. Luckily for him, other people's expressions were even more pathetic. Hermione had her eyes closed by she was frowning too much; Ron couldn't stop giggling. Neville looked as if he fell asleep.

Harry sank into his mind again. This time, he reached out for the egg. Instinct told him to send his powers to it, so he did. And then the egg wobbled and hatched.

Harry would have snorted if he could. It was a chicken sized bird, wrinkled and chirping. The bird looked very much like a baby phoenix, except that it was pitch black, rather than golden. It was a very ugly thing, wrinkled, with an overlarge stomach. As the baby bird struggled, light seemed to fade around it, and suddenly, it was engulfed in a ball of flame. The flame was identical to his Soul Orb, weaving around the bird like the gloom of dusk. The fireball grew in size and suddenly burst open. Then Harry was faced with the most – strange – bird in his life.

It was a phoenix all right, except that unlike Dumbledore's golden Fawkes, this one was completely black. The bluish black flame still surrounded it, swirling in a way similar to his magic ball. The swan sized bird looked at him with sad, burdened eyes. It opened its mouth and gave single forlorn chirping note. It was a hauntingly beautiful thing, like the shadow of death. He quickly pulled out again, but this time to find the entire class gaping at him, the atmosphere in the room straining in surprise.

"Ha-Harry, what did you do?" Ron spoke to him for the first time in two weeks without a trance of hostility.

"What?" asked Harry, confused. Professor McGonagall was also staring at him in confusion, even she, it appeared, had not understood what happened.

"You were burning with a black flame!" exclaimed Ron excitedly. "We tried to call you but you didn't respond, so Professor McGonagall tried used a spell to wake you up, only to find that her wand wasn't working. None of the wands worked in the room. You've stopped Magic!"

Harry shrugged. He knew perfectly well what happened. The bird, like his Soul Orb, fed on magic. He was also glad that only the Gryffindors were present in the lesson, as he could not bear the thought of half the school staring at him. Still, he felt uncomfortable enough under everyone's gaze.

"Everybody take your seat," McGonagall seemed to have regained her ability of speech, although she couldn't stop looking in Harry's direction. "Very well, I did not expect any of you to achieve what I asked, because Animagus training usually takes at least one year to finish. After identifying your inner animal, you would have to do researches on it, to understand it. And although it is not absolutely necessary, it is better if you can have a living model of the animal you want to become in front of you."

She paused, struggling to keep her gaze away from Harry. She seemed to have neglected the fact that other than Hermione and Harry, no one else was paying any attention to what she was saying. Most people still shot darting looks at Harry, the others whispered softly to the person next to them. Nor did Harry pay attention to anything else. He memorized every bit of information McGonagall said and decided to check the book he found on Animagus Transformation. He also wanted to go and visit Hagrid before dinner, hopefully finding out something about black phoenixes. He also had to check out the Chamber of Secrets soon.

"The next stage of Animagus training is to try and alter the behavior of your body, starting from making fingers grow to shrinking in size. Like any human transformation spells, you have to visualize what you want. Imagine looking at your fingers growing, believe it enough, and your fingers will grow. Even some muggles are able to do this. The harder part is to imagine your skin to transform to something else, which is done through the same principles. After that, you are more or less a successful Animagus." McGonagall finished her lecture, glancing at the gloomy sky outside the window, her hands shuffling some parchment on her desk. "I would like you to do some research on Human Transformation and write an essay on the difference between Human Transformation and Animagus, for next Tuesday. Dismissed."

Nobody commented on the fact that she finished her lesson 10 minutes early, nor the fact that she hurried out of her classroom before the students finished packing. The students were busy groaning about too much homework or chatting about what their inner animal would be. Harry ignored them and made his way to the classroom door. Ron and Hermione opened their mouth as if to speak to him, but he pretended not to see. Dragging his bag over his shoulder, he made his solitary way to the Great Hall.

Hagrid was having a lesson with the Sixth Year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, which was expected as there was still five minutes to the end of class. Standing out amongst the crowd was Hagrid's huge figure, almost twice as big as the students were. Coincidence it may be, perched on Hagrid's shoulder was Fawkes, Dumbledore's golden Phoenix. The class was staring at it in admiration, while Fawkes chirped happily, seeming glad to be in the centre of attention. Harry stood in the shadows of Hagrid's hut unseen as he watched him dismiss the class and Fawkes vanishing in a burst of flame. Finally, when the bell rang across the grounds, Harry stepped out.

"Hey Hagrid," he said softly, smiling as Fang wiggled his tail madly and jumped onto Harry for a hug.

"Harry!" he strode towards him and gave him a crushing hug that left Harry slightly breathless. "Yeh've finally remembered to drop by, huh?"

The half-giant ushered Harry into his wooden hut and slammed the door forcedly after him. A warm fire was glowing in the fireplace. Hagrid placed two giant tea cups and saucers on the table.

"Well? How's yer lessons doin?" Hagrid asked as he filled the cups with tea and sat down on a giant chair opposite Harry. The chair groaned in the effort to support him.

"Alright I suppose," answered Harry, absentmindedly trying to stir the conversation away from himself. "What about you? How's Grawp?"

Hagrid beamed happily. "Grawpy's doin loads betta now, loads. He's learnt some English words, some manners as well, I tell yeh. The lad's with Olympe in France right now, Dumbledore think it's not safe, yeh know, with the students, centaurs and all that. He set up a link jus' between my fire place an' the one in Olympe's office, so I ge'ter visit whenever I want."

Harry sipped his tea silently as he listened to Hagrid going on about finding Grawp a lady friend.

"Hey Harry," Hagrid asked suddenly, his large face frowning. "Yeh feelin' all righ'? You're kinda quiet."

Harry gave a small smile, feeling warmed by the look of concern on Hagrid's face.

"I'm fine," Harry said quickly, afraid that Hagrid would ask what he's been up to like McGonagall. "So, you're doing phoenix with the sixth form, huh?"

Hagrid beamed. "Yeah, borro'd Fawks from Dumbledore. The bird seemed right pleased ter come too, likes the attention."

Harry took another sip of his tea and continued carefully.

"Hagrid, is there such a thing as a Black Phoenix? I read about it in a muggle book when I was small," Harry asked. He deliberately chose to mention a muggle book just in case Hagrid would want to see it.

Hagrid thought for a moment, scratching his shaggy head. Fang panted excitedly as Harry petted him on the head.

"There is Black Phoenixes all righ'," said Hagrid thoughtfully. "They're really rare; no un's seen 'em for thousands of years. Some say it's bad luck to see 'em, it brings death, but tha's jus' superstition. They are so rare tha' if yer ever do see 'em, yer would be lucky."

Hagrid seemed to be enjoying himself. It seems that Black Phoenixes were one of those rare animals without poisonous fang that he liked.

"Golden Phoenixes aren't immortal. That's wha' people think, but they're not," continued Hagrid, encouraged by the look of interest on Harry's face. "They can only relive cer'ain times an' no more. But Black Phoenixes are different, they're not truly alive. There's a story 'bout it, yeh know?"

Harry shook his head, genuinely interested.

Hagrid smiled solemnly. "Yeah, it's a sad tale. At one time centuries b'fore, there used ter be plenty of phoenixes, plenty. They were around b'fore us wizards, but we hunted them for potions an' feathers an' stuffs. Anyway, once there's this massive hunt of phoenix, an' an entire flock got trapped in a cave. A hun'er went in der cave but some phoenix dropped a rock and killed him, der rest got angry and stared shooting killing spells inter der cave, 'cause dead phoenixes were as good as alive. One phoenix, male one, to protect the rest, flew out and swallowed all der curses. There was an explosion an' a light ball brigh' as der sun. Most o' the hunters got killed, the rest blinded. Serve 'em right. Anyway, that phoenix died, it burnt out its life to protect the others. But the rest didn't just leave him, they guarded him fer seven days, everyday crying on his dead body. In the end the dead phoenix was brought back ter life, but it was black ever since, an' all it's offspring were. Not only were they black, black phoenixes can also melt in shadows an' disrupts der magic field, which is why wan' magic don't work around 'em. See, they're not exactly alive. What der Phoenixes did bordered necromancy, an' that's bad, Harry. I dunno much magic, but even I know that Necromancy is evil. Yer don't come back from the dead without being changed. The Black Phoenix had seen the Underworld. Marked by death, some call it."

Hagrid took a large gulp of his tea.

"So the phoenixes lived for a while, and the Black un' lived with 'em. The old herd died off, and the new ones disliked him – he was immortal. Nothing lives fer ever, Harry, not even phoenixes. It's unnatural. But der the Black Phoenix seemed to be an exception, an' the others didn't like that. See, phoenixes are smart, they're like people. They drove him away, banished him from the herd. No un's seen it ever afterwards."

Hagrid stared into the distance, mesmerized by his own story. After a while, he shook his head slightly and beamed at Harry.

"Anyway Harry, how's Ron an' Hermione? They've been here ter see me las' week. Yer haven't been with 'em lately," stated Hagrid as he stood up to refill the kettle.

Harry sighed.

"I love them too much, I don't want them to get hurt by associating with me," explained Harry simply.

Hagrid nodded understandingly, but a big smile broke out on his face. "What 'bout Ginny?"

Harry felt a jolt somewhere in his abdomen. A painful one.

"Whatdoyoumean?" He asked quickly.

"Well, I 'eard that you two've been close at some point. Yer did kill der giant for her, an' you did spend four night's alone with 'er, after all," Hagrid said happily as he waved the kettle about, pouring a jolt of boiling water at fang. Harry vaporized the water with a simple frown. Hagrid didn't see it.

"Well you're wrong Hagrid, we're barely good friends. Yes, we did share a lot of things at one point, but no one would want to share what I'm going through right now, no one can." Harry said soft, more to himself. Hagrid looked at him sadly. "I admit I did have some feelings for her, at one point, but now I can't afford to be distracted. There are more important things in the life of Harry Potter. Anyway she would be safer if she's not my friend, _and_ I think she's going out with Colin, in her class, _and_ she deserves some one more cheerful than me. She's always sad and grim around me. _And_ Ron will kill me if I do end up with Ginny." He added as an afterthought, not realizing he's been babbling.

Hagrid looked at him shrewdly, still holding his kettle.

"Well Harry, yeh need a life after all," he thought for a moment before adding tentatively. "An' Harry, can yeh tell me what have yeh bin doin? Yeh know I won't betray yer secrets, even ter Dumbledore."

Harry sighed again, rubbing his temples.

"No Hagrid, I trust you. You will guard my secrets with your life and that's what I'm afraid of," he said quietly. "It's safer if you don't know. Most of my secrets aren't important anyway."

Hagrid nodded, looking only slightly disappointed.

"An' Harry," he said after a moment of silence. "Yer friends are with yeh, if only you accept them. Yeh're not as alone as yeh think."

Harry nodded and stood up to leave.

"I know."

Harry thought about his visit to Hagrid all the way back to the castle. Visiting Hagrid had cheered him up greatly. He seemed to be the only person who understood Harry enough to give him some personal space, some room for secrecy. He was only one of the few that didn't treat him in fear and suspicion. Confusingly, Harry also felt like a completely different person. Gone was the bitter frustration. Yes, the anger and feelings of hopelessness was still there, someone inside, but none of it reached an unbearable quality that made him feel suicidal. It was as if Harry's old identity was returned to him, and the new, cold, ruthless one was lurking somewhere else in his mind, no longer dominant. Harry kept his head bowed in thought as he walked into the brightness of the Great Hall, not looking around until he knocked someone over.

"Whoa," he said, as a flash of red bent over to pick up her load of books. Ginny.

Harry's face flushed with red as he apologized, but she brushed it aside lightly and levitated her books.

"Where were you at dinner?" she asked in a slightly concerned voice.

"Hagrid's," he said shortly, never taking his eyes off her. A thought suddenly jumped into his head. _You need a life after all._ "I'm going to the kitchen to get some food, would you like to come?"

_Smooth, Potter, really smooth._ He thought desperately. The voices were laughing at him in his head, but suddenly his Soul Orb appeared out of nowhere. The black bird seemed to taken it for its home. It chirped, silencing the voices but making his headache worse.

Ginny blushed and mumbled something with the noise level of a mosquito, but Harry heard her nonetheless.

"Sorry I promised Colin we'll study together."

To Harry's surprise, he didn't feel at all disappointed, only grim acceptance.

"Of course, you should go then, I'll see you later, good luck," he heard himself saying.

Ginny turned to the stairs, still blushing. She didn't look back.

Harry smirked to himself. _What was that, Potter?_ The voices shoved the little bird aside. _Were you asking her out? To the kitchen?_

_Shut up,_ he thought furiously. _That was a perfectly normal thing to ask to a friend, and perfectly normal to be rejected. Besides, I don't even like her that way._

He headed to the only place he wanted to go, ignoring the question forming in the back of his mind.

_Don't you?_

Myrtle wasn't here when he reached the out of bounds bathroom, presumably out to spy on people again. Harry reached for the tap marked with a snake, and whispered, as he remembered he did four years ago.

"_Open._"

An entrance was exposed after sinks moved away. Feeling reckless for some reason, Harry quickly jumped in before he could lose his nerve. He muttered "close" as he fell down the endless pipeline.

The place was same as ever. He walked past the doorways that were still open from his last visit. Harry wasn't exactly afraid, even if there was another basilisk, he was confident of being able to kill it, maybe even bind it as a servant. But the place had an uneasy familiarity to it, somehow Harry felt like as if he had been here before, not in his second year, but even before that. He felt drawn towards an unseen goal and his heart rate grew faster and faster as he approached it. Finally, he found himself in the Chamber of Secret.

He stood, as he remembered he did, in a long, dimly lit chamber. The huge stelae that supported the room gave the place a sense of foreboding grandeur. Harry leant forward to exam one of the carved snakes. They seemed almost real, in fact, too real. Without the presence of Tom Riddle or the Basilisk, the chamber seemed dead. The air was damp, smelling a lot like Myrtle's toilet, and the silence was so complete that his head began to hurt.

The Basilisk's body was still there, slumped on the floor below the statue of Slytherin like a mass of gigantic rope. Almost four years have passed but the snake's carcass remained intact, although the poisonous blood on the floor dried up years ago and, as Harry stepped on it, cracked into ashes.

He looked up at the Statue, at the open mouth which formed an abyss that seemed to expand outward. _That's where the Basilisk came out from._ He thought. A sudden urge processed him to explore the Basilisk's lair. He summoned a ladder with a wave of his hand and climbed towards the black hole, feeling his blood soaring in exhilaration.

He reached to entrance of the mouth, hesitating only for a moment before entering. He closed his eyes in concentration and summoned a Spirit of light, which floated before him, taking away the gloom. It was an ancient spell recorded in the Gryffindor Book, used when "Lumos" wasn't invented. The little blazing globe cast brilliance on everything around it, revealing what seemed to be endless stone stairs leading even deeper under the school. Harry checked his watch: eight o'clock. He swallowed nervously and continued.

The stairs led him several hundred meters below the chamber. On the side was an entrance to a giant pipe, the edge of which was rubbed smooth presumably by the Basilisk. The deeper he went, the more unused the stairs appeared. It seemed that even the Basilisk hadn't ventured this far.

Finally, he reached a stone doorway decorated by carved snakes.

"Open," he commanded, feeling more and more excited for something he doesn't remember. It was as if a slumbering part of his brain had been awakened, containing memories he never experienced before.

Harry could only gasp. He faced what seemed to be the replica of a prehistoric Slytherin common room. The room was decorated completely by green and black, and the candle stands, mirrors and handles of closet were all made of what looked like solid gold. There was a four-poster bed twice the size of what he had in his dorm, with hangings cascading from the head and foot and a canopy, all made of the same green silky material. There were high-backed chairs and several pieces of massive, richly glowing furniture made of black wood. The place was grand, but also beautiful. There was a fireplace that looked as if it hasn't been used for centuries, but the moment Harry stepped in, fire leaped up, casting a warm radiance that didn't fit the place.

After the sense of awe passed, Harry walked around, poking each piece of furniture with interest. He looked out of the window and saw that it showed the interior of the Slytherin common room. Draco Malfoy was saying something and Goyle was laughing like an idiot.

_Why doesn't this thing show the Gryffindor Girls' shower?_ he thought disgustedly, glaring at Malfoy with narrow eyes.

To his surprise and horror, the scenery suddenly switched to what seemed like the interior of a prefect's bathroom, only less richly decorated and glowing pink. Harry found his view focusing on one particular shower, the occupant of which had long, cascading red hair soaked with shampoo. He fixed his eyes on her perfect butt …

"Damn…" whispered Harry, not feeling wholeheartedly sorry as he quickly thought of the Forbidden Forest, out of conscience.

There nameplate on the huge dinner table that read "Chamber of Slytherin". Harry didn't like it. He waved his hand across the plate and erased the word "Slytherin", changing it to "Gryffindor." To his surprise, the name wobbled and melted, replaced by "Slytherin" again. Feeling challenged the first time in weeks, he focused all his attention and thought again. This time, the name "Gryffindor" was carved in with a shower of golden sparks. It didn't come off again. Not completely satisfied, Harry turned to look at the room. He spread his arm and magic flowed out of him, coating the room in a sluggish pace. The silver-red aura met green colored resistance everywhere it touched, and successfully smashed them aside. Finally Harry turned to admire his work. The room no longer had a greenish air of desolation and unfathomable grandeur. All the green colours were switched to gold and red, and all the stiff wooden chairs were changed to comfortable squashy armchairs.

_So this was where Slytherin's hideout was,_ thought Harry in satisfaction as he faced the mirror. _Well, its mine now, since the heir of Slytherin has the hobby of hunting me, this can at least be some compensation._

He turned to examine the mirror again. The mirror was certainly the most interesting object of all. It was an infinitely more powerful version of the Marauder's Map. _I wonder if Dumbledore knows about this room._ He thought as the image suddenly switched to Dumbledore sitting in this office. A weird little box on his table was emitting puffs of smoke and Dumbledore's head was swaying with rhythm, his eyes were closed. Strangely, the Headmaster suddenly opened his eyes and scanned the room, frowning as if he knew someone was watching him. Alarmed, Harry pulled out. _Fred and George would love this,_ Harry thought with a small laugh. Thinking about Fred and George made him remember the "spy-der" he received from them for birthday. He made a mental note to try it out sometimes. Maybe he can attach the spyder's vision to this.

Harry played with the mirror for another hour, discovering that it only showed those people who were inside the school property, inside the magic field of Hogwarts. He couldn't see anything in Hogsmeade or Ministry of Magic. When he next examined his watch, it was eleven o'clock.

_I need a way to get here … I'm not going to slide down that pipe everyday._

An idea struck him. Harry took out the Basilisk amulet from Ginny. He performed a complicated secrecy charm first, and again out of impulse, set the password as "Ginny", but spoken in Parselmouth. Smiling, he put another direction charm and finally muttered "Portus." The oval shaped quartz in the Basilisk's mouth glowed and turned blue. He let out a breath of excitement. Taking a last look at his new bedroom, Harry crabbed the amulet in his palm and pictured the corridor outside the Fat Lady's portrait, and disappeared in thin air.

Fat Lady frowned at him when Harry materialized in front of her, but as he gave the password, she whispered: "Your secret is safe with me, Harry", making him smile genuinely for the second time that day. He sprang into the common room. His smile faded slightly, however, as he run into Ginny again, this time hard.

She smelled like lily, as she always did. _Probably her shampoo,_ thought Harry randomly as she was knocked over, pulling him with her. They landed in an awkward position as Harry turned in mid air to stop her crashing on to the floor. His back collided painfully with the floor and Ginny landed on top of him, one hand stuck between his legs, precariously close to certain private places. But Harry wasn't in a much better position: as he stuck out a hand to grab her, he unintentionally touched Ginny's breasts, and lingered there, feeling a little hard spot pressing his palm. Luckily, he wasn't in the position to make a big deal out of this, and nor did Ginny seem to notice.

"Where were you?" she asked as she pulled him up. "I went to the kitchen but you weren't there."

Harry cracked his neck and stretched his arm with a groan.

"Never mind. I'm going to the Kitchen now," he said, stirring the conversation away. "It's still too early for me to sleep."

Ginny looked at him with narrow eyes, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Fine, don't tell me," she snapped. "I was going to ask you whether your invitation to dinner still stands. For your information, I didn't eat dinner tonight either because I was running around the castle looking for _you._ Even if you don't want to share your secrets with that idiot brother of mine, I thought you would at least trust _me_!"

Harry looked at her in surprise. She looked beautiful even when she was angry. Her hair was tied into a messy pony tail trailing behind her back. A flock of hair escaped their confinement and flickered across her face like thin streams of flames. It was impossible to hide things from her, and nor did Harry want to. Seeing Harry's expression, Ginny's face softened.

"Let's go to dinner then, shall we?" she unfolded her arm and headed towards the portrait hole.

"Wait!" Harry called behind her.

He looked around the room to make sure no one was around and used a quick summoning charm to get the Marauder's Map. Ginny waited in front of him, looking puzzled. After a few seconds, his map zoomed down the staircase towards him. He tucked them into his pocket and turned to Ginny.

"Well, I'm going to show you a secret. It's illegal, but you are Ginny, not Hermione," he explained quickly, casting anti-spying charms here and there around the room. Ginny was looking more and more puzzled. Finally, he took out the amulet and her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure.

"You actually wear that?" she beamed at him.

"Of course, but that's beside the point," Harry held the Amulet in his palm and hissed "Ginny".

"Come and put your arms around me," he ordered.

Ginny frowned, but complied. Harry could feel the warmth of her body across the fabrics of his robs. Most students had started wearing jumpers by now, but Harry wasn't one of them. It seems now that nor was Ginny. Harry felt his knees go weak as Ginny rested the side of her face on his chest. He quickly visualized the kitchen before he lost his nerve.

The house elves were unsurprised. They bustled around as if two people Portkeying into the kitchen were the most normal thing in the world. But Ginny was looking at Harry in awe.

"Was that what I think it was?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Well, yes," Harry shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed but also pleased that she was impressed.

"But you ca – couldn't have!" she exclaimed. "Dad said that making Activation Portkeys is so difficult that even the officials of the Department of Transport couldn't do them often. The magic needed to maintain them is enormous."

"I know it is," explained Harry as his eyes swept across the kitchen. House Elves bustled here and there, ignoring them. "But pure crystals can collect and maintain magic, so it's easier. Does that make sense? And here comes Dobby."

He had a brief glimpse of a pair of enormous, green eyes, pencil sharp nose, bat-like ears under what looked like six woolly hats before Dobby the house-elf hurled towards him from the middle of the kitchen, squealing with happiness.

"Harry Potter, Sir, Harry Potter and Miss Wheezy has come to see Dobby!"

The squealing elf grabbed Harry and Ginny's waist, hugging them so hard that their head bumped into each other.

"Ouch! D-Dobby leggo!" Harry gasped, pushing himself away from Ginny, who was giggling.

Dobby let go and retreated several steps back, beaming up at Harry and Ginny, his tennis-ball-sized eyes swarming with tears of excitement. He blew his nose loudly on a handkerchief which hung loosely from a little belt on his waist. Harry noticed that Dobby made a new approach at dressing up.

When he worked for the Malfoys, Dobby always wore a dirty pillowcase. After Harry had freed him, the House Elf adapted the obsession of wearing unmatched socks. Now, however, he seemed to be wearing some weird kind of uniform. Perching on his head was Hermione's several homemade hats, wobbling and fidgeting against each other, making Dobby's head look ridiculously elongated; tied across his neck was an orange tie that also served as a scarf trailing across his chest. His chest was bare, but some sort of linen strips wrapped his midriff, the left side died orange, right side yellow. He wore matching pants tied by a little belt and also matching socks, the left one orange, right one yellow.

Harry gaped at Dobby new attempt at dressing for several seconds, during which time Ginny stuffed her fists into her mouth to stop laughing. Finally, Harry found his voice back.

"Dobby," he asked in amazement. "Who taught you to dress like that?"

"Miss Wheezy, Harry Potter Sir!" squealed Dobby in delight. "Miss Wheezy made Dobby his clothes, Sir!"

Harry looked at Ginny in disgust, only to find her glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

"What?" she said challengingly. "Am I not allowed to be creative?"

"Nothing," Harry answered quickly, fighting down a laugh. "I just didn't know you knew Dobby."

Ginny punched him lightly on the arm.

"I'm allowed to have secrets, you know."

Harry didn't answer. The House Elf was looking at them suggestively with a sly grin and Harry had to change the topic.

"Anyway, Dobby, can you pack us some food I can take away? We are both starving," asked Harry. He grabbed Ginny's hand to stop her making her way to a small table in the corner. She looked back at him quizzically.

"What? Aren't we going to eat?"

Harry was spared of answering as several house elves brought a large basket filled with cakes, a flagon of pumpkin juice and what looked like salad and chicken legs. Harry smiled at Ginny secretively.

"Yes we are, but we're not eating here." He turned towards Dobby. "Thanks Dobby, I'll come back to visit soon, say hi to Winky for us."

With that, he took out his wand and waved it at the basket of food. They disappeared with a pop. Dobby bowed, his long nose almost touching the floor.

"It's Dobby's honor to serve Harry Potter and his Miss Wheezy. Dobby hopes that Harry Potter Sir will enjoy his special night with Miss Wheezy." he said, beaming.

Ginny blushed. Harry waved goodbye to several smiling house elves and grabbed her hand.

"Close your eyes," he ordered. And within seconds, they melted into the air.

Harry felt the familiar gripping sensation in his stomach as he landed once more in his newly decorated "Chamber of Gryffindor". _Chamber of Potter_, he suddenly thought. _That's better._

Ginny to find her eyes dutifully closed, a small smile playing across her lips.

"Am I allowed to open my eyes yet, Harry Potter Sir?" she asked teasingly.

"Not yet," Harry answered as he flicked his hand towards the basket resting on the grand dinner table. A tablecloth appeared and the basket emptied its contents. With another wave of his hand, the light from the chandeliers died out and glowing candles appeared on the table. The room was now lit with only the candles and a cracking fire in the fireplace. Harry led Ginny to the table.

"Open your eyes," he whispered.

Ginny did. She let out a small gasp of surprise as she turned to scan the room. Her face glowed in candlelight, a small spark behind her chocolate eyes. Finally, her gaze settled on the bed.

"Silk? You really know what to show a girl, don't you, Harry?" she raised an eyebrow, giggling.

Harry only smiled.

"Welcome to my home."

* * *

Review time!

jbfritz/firetiger/bandgsecurtiyaw/Phoenix2500Junky: You guys almost said the samething, so i'm answering them together, plz don't get offended . anyway, Thank you for your kind words! I'll post another chapther tomorrow.

lluvatar: you see... i destroyed the right hand of the glove (may be i didn't describe it clear enough)... the left hand is still there and it's gonna save his life at some point later. still disappointed?

Sweetie813: thanks! I'm glad it actually had that effect on you. that means i didn't waste 3 hours correcting it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Council and Meetings**

**A/N: Just in case ppl find the Black Phoenix bit confusing, I'll say something about it here. I'm sure this sort of Author's Note is not allowed in other sites, but who cares...**

**Black Phoenixes are dead. They are the personification of death and don't have a living form and therefore are truely immortal. You can't kill them because it's like killing death.They 'feed' on life in the sense that they neutralize the life force around them, so if you're around them long enough you'll eventually age to dust. When the Black Phoenix was growing inside Harry's mind, it was feeding on his magic and his soul, which is why he always have a emptiness inside him, like a vacuum. The Black Phoenix sucks in other people's magic to fill in that vacuum (which it self is infinite). It hasn't found anyone/anything powerful enough to satisfy Harry's hunger. Yet. **

**Anyway, hope that explains things... i fear i might have put way too much focus on this little black bird ... enjoy. **

* * *

If Ron was grateful towards Harry about Quidditch Captaincy, he didn't show it. Ron and Hermione had asked him again about his frequent disappearance after dinner and during the night but they still didn't receive the response they were hoping for. By now, Hermione, who had once suggested to her boyfriend that Harry had his reasons for keeping secrets, also lost her patience. Neither would sit anywhere near Harry, saying that if he couldn't trust his friends, then it's better if he didn't have any. Hermione even went as far as continuing the DA without him, and Ron held the Quidditch tryout without acknowledging his existence at all.

Harry had to admit that his decision for making Ron captain was one of the best he had ever made. Ron was a natural leader. He spoke with authority and confidence; acted with logic and determination. The rest of the team followed him like blind flies. Frankly, Harry thought that Ron was being rather ruthless towards those who came for the tryout. He had made those who came for the vacant chaser positions to endure nearly an hour of Bludger bombardment from Kirke and Sloper, both of whom improved drastically over the holidays. In the end, only Ginny and – surprisingly – Colin, made the team. There was no doubt that the Beaters no longer needed to be replaced, and Harry was only happy when Ron dismissed the regular team without even mentioning the Seeker Position. Ron himself stayed behind for the reserve team tryout, while the rest of the team went back to the castle to get some dinner.

The other thing worth mentioning was the weather, and there was only one word to describe it: abnormal.

As they entered November, the weather turned, as expected, cold. The mountains around the school became giant ice creams with greyish green toppings and the lake froze over like cold steel. Frost crept up the windows each morning and the school had to be insulated magically. This would be completely normal, however, if there weren't frequent rainstorms that left reddish black patches on the windows, or if the sky wasn't always so gloomy, and the air didn't have a green, toxic looking quality to it. Everyone noticed Mother Nature behaving unnaturally. For the last three days, the sky only showed two colors: greenish grey during the day and pitch black during the night. Nobody wanted to go out, even Hagrid traveled frequently through Hogwarts' private Floo link instead of walking.

The weather affected people's mood. The teachers bustled around the school stormy faced; the students got into fights for tiniest incidents in the corridor. Even Silvia, who was usually cheerful, was somewhat snappish. (She had finally recovered from the effects of his Soul Orb). Everybody was in a foul mood, everybody except Harry Potter.

Harry wasn't feeling much concerned about what was happening around him. He stayed every night and ate his meal frequently in his private chamber, which seemed to be the only place unaffected by the gloomy atmosphere. During the day, whenever he came to contact with the greenish aura in the air, however, he felt the tiniest tingle as some magical force was repelled by his body shield which he set up around himself 24 hours a day against hostile magic. But Harry wasn't bothered about this. He left the investigation of this strange phenomenon to Dumbledore, who seemed just as jumpy as any other teachers did. All Harry did was to take the liberty of setting up a protective shield for Ginny, without telling her.

After sharing dinner with her, Harry's relationship with Ginny developed no further. To Harry, she didn't seem to need him as a boyfriend, mainly because she already had one – Colin. Nor was Harry very willing to get too close to her. He was glad for the relationship to remain at a platonic level, but any closer that that, he would be worried about Ginny being targeted by Death Eaters. If he didn't want Ron and Hermione threatened for being his best friends, he certainly didn't want Ginny to get hurt for being his girlfriend. He did, however, invite Ginny frequently to his private chamber where they had meals together. They discussed school life and via Ginny, Harry gave advises to what the DA should be learning.

Day after day this routine continued, but the end of it all Harry was feeling very frustrated inside. He was a healthy teenage boy of sixteen, after all, and he had his needs, spiritually if not physically. He watched his classmates sorting themselves into pairs each time a class finished, leaving him the lone one out, wearing a sardonic smile on his face but feelingly empty inside. It wasn't the soul splitting vacuum feeling anymore. It was something else – a sense of isolation so immense that he thought he'd go mad. He had to feel the emptiness with something.

In the end, he dedicated all time to studying.

Harry had finished with most of the books on offensive magic in the Library and had already began invading Salazar Slytherin's personal Study, which he found concealed behind a wall in his chamber. All the books there were about ancient magic, some Light, mostly Dark. Harry studied them all. He also found a Pensive-like stone plate about a meter in diameter which turned out to be a Spell Tester. Once a person stood on it, the Spell Tester would open another plane of the universe where he could shoot whatever spell he wanted without damaging the real world. It turned out to be extremely useful as most of the spells he practiced were rather destructing, such as his favorite in store for Death Eaters, the Mass Killing Spell.

The Black Phoenix within him continued to grow. From time to time Harry would check on it. The phoenix continued to feed on his magic, but he no longer felt drained. It was as if when his magic was eaten, it was filtered into something else. Harry also attempted to do the Animagus transformation, and managed to alter the length of his fingers, which according to the book of Animagus, was nearly no progress at all. The Phoenix was stuck in him. Each time he tried to change into it, a void in his soul would suck it back. He wasn't too concerned though, because he was powerful enough.

Almost a month had passed since he began training himself and three month since Silvia turned up as his mentor. Harry's magical abilities grew from above average to what he saw as nearly impossible for his age. Everyday he assumed one person in the school, including teachers, as an enemy and imagined a duel with that person, looking for his or her weaknesses. The students were too weak, he realized, to withstand any kind of assault from Death Eaters without the teachers. But even the teachers disappointed him. During lessons he secretly conjured red ink pellets and shot them at the teachers. Most of them never realized that their backs were marked by big, fiery red dots. This was fun as a distraction, but it was also frustrating as he had no way to truly test his abilities except with imaginations and blasting huge trunks of rock in the Spell Tester. He was increasingly agitated, but chance never came, until the second Monday of November.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was in no doubt the most popular class in Hogwarts. Silvia's lesson was full of action and sometimes, surprises. She didn't seem to follow any syllabus, but instead came up with stuffs randomly. This Monday morning, she suddenly had the idea of a dueling competition.

"I was thinking - " she began her lesson as the classroom calmed down. " - that maybe it's time for us to have some real stuff instead of theories."

The class looked exited hearing this, the gloomy atmosphere broken. Smiles of nervousness or excitement blossomed on people's faces and a buzz of whispers began.

Silvia raised her hand with a small smile and continued. The class calmed down instantly.

"What about this?" she suggested. "I'll sort you to pairs, and since there's fifteen of you, I'll join as well. Winner goes to round two and losers – well - tough luck."

She seemed to be practically chirping as she sorted the class in half. Harry noted that she seemed particularly careful to make sure Harry was paired up with her. Then, with a wave of her wand, she made the chairs fly to the walls, leaving the middle of the room clear. Harry sidled up to her while she was doing this and spoke to her softly.

"Silvia, can we use any other spells during the dueling? I mean besides the ones you taught in class."

"Certainly, Harry, as long as you use them on me, not the students," she gave him a wink, looking unsurprised. "I sense a growth in your power, so let's see what you might have up your sleeve."

She turned away and set up a Spectator's Shield around the centre of the room. The others retreated several steps and scattered around the shield. Harry noticed that the DA members looked smug, while Ron and Hermione were giving him vehement looks, their heads close to each other's, whispering. Harry sighed. If they decided to be childish about this, they might get hurt.

The first round to go up was Ron and Parvati, who giggled at the sight of Ron's broad chest under that tight jumper. Hermione only smirked outside the shield.

"_Impedimenta!_" Ron cried as soon as Parvati had opened her mouth. It seemed that he didn't even know what she was going to say and cared even less; after a big show of yawning he stepped forward and plucked her wand from her grasp, then took the spell off her. She looked around, smiling shyly at him, batting her eyelashes and making Ron wince.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Silvia asked, suppressing a smile. Next to come up were Seamus and Ernie. From what Harry remembered, they were more or less of the same level and had the same weaknesses: both liked to flourish their wands unnecessarily. Seamus used the disarming charm and Ernie dodged it, firing an Expelliarmus of his own. Seamus shouted "PROTEGO" and deflected the spell, which hit the Spectator's shield, rebounding several times in its confinement before disappearing. They then shared rounds of "Impedimenta", followed by a couple of stunners. Harry noticed that they only used the spells and curses they learned from the DA and nothing more. Moreover, both seemed rather rigid about the way a spell is launched: instead of firing spells in rapid succession, they waited until the other fight back. It seemed that Hermione didn't have much luck teaching them without Harry. Finally, Ernie tripped on his feet and gave Seamus the chance to stun him.

Silvia looked relieved as she announced the results. She glanced at the list in her hands and suddenly her eyes lit up.

"Harry Potter," she said, pausing for effect. "And myself."

The class didn't look surprised or excited hearing this. Only Ron and Hermione and Neville frowned, looking attentive. Harry took off his cloak and stepped into the shield, as did Silvia.

For several seconds, neither of them moved. Harry held Silvia's gaze unflinching. The friendly smile was gone from his mentor's face. Apparently, she took her duels seriously.

After a week of studying Silvia's movements, Harry found that the young Chinese woman didn't have many obvious weak points. Being familiar to Shadow Boxing, she had amazing reflexes. She was able to fire spells with both wand and her left hand and even when disarmed, she was generally dangerous. Her knowledge of Ancient Magic altogether made her a formidable opponent. Fighting with her is a simple case of power match, and not many people Harry knew were more magical than she was.

They stood like that for a few minutes. Finally Harry decided to take the initiative. This was a game, but he wasn't going to lose in, if he lost, it would prove that everything he worked for was pointless, and he would not let that happen. No matter what.

"_REPERCUSSUS!_" Harry stabbed the wand onto the left side of his chest so hard that the skin was almost punctured. A transparent but dark coloured shield blossomed, covering Harry's body in a globe, swirling like mist.

Silvia frowned;her graceful face for a moment displayed nervousness, even fear.

As expected, she responded with a shield charm of her own followed by a quick offensive. She summoned several Bludger sized metal balls, all zooming towards Harry at terrifying speed.

They had finally caught the class's attention now. Everybody stared at the duel opened mouthed, many screamed as the heavy balls smashed into Harry's shield.

BOOM! The balls were deflected from Harry's shield back to Silvia, who took several steps back under the impact. The class gasped.

Harry smiled. Maybe Silvia was more powerful than he was, but he had one advantage: she under estimated him. Such a low powered Shield was almost an insult to his abilities. Harry focused his attention again. Knowing Silvia's abilities, she could upturn the situation any moment and Harry wasn't gong to lose this chance.

"INFERNO!" he shouted, slashing his arm at the floor before Silvia had realized what was happening. Suddenly, a reddish aura filled the interior of the Spectator's Shield and flames began pouring out of nowhere. The flames licked the smooth surface of Harry's shield gently, more like a lover's caress. It was a different situation with Silvia, however, who seemed to be struggling to keep off the heat. Harry smiled knowingly within his protection. Shield charms are generally used against magical damage; few existed which can successfully stop physical assaults. Silvia, being a Shield Charm master, is almost invulnerable to moderate offensive spells. Her present shield kept off the magical fire, but unfortunately the heat created wasn't a part of the magic. Harry's shield, however, was a weaker version of a Blood Shield, one that worked against both physical and magical damage. The strength of it purely depended on the caster, and in Harry's case, it was pretty strong.

It was a beautiful sight, like a circular and transparent oven. The duel had begun for ten minutes yet neither of them had moved a pace. Harry could see thoughts contemplating in Silvia's mind – if she doesn't act soon she'd have to surrender, or get roasted alive. His mentor looked at him pleadingly, but Harry did nothing. His bloodlust was fully on now, and he won't stop until his satisfied.

Something stirred in his mind. Harry giggled. Apparently the Black Phoenix liked this too.

Silvia panted in the heat, sweat dripping off her brows. She admitted now that she had made a big mistake, perhaps one of the biggest that she'd ever made in her life. She should not have underestimated Harry Potter. What the boy had been doing – learning, she had no idea, but the increase in his power was unimaginable, and she was sure that he only showed a fraction of what he could do. This was an alarming situation, she knew, and it seemed that a meeting with Dumbledore was necessary, soon. She looked up at him now, her godson, and saw someone she didn't recognize. There was no mercy behind those emerald eyes, only foreboding shadows flickered, like shadows of death.

_I definitely need to speak with Dumbledore,_ she thought, _if I survive today._

She looked at Harry, silently asking him to banish the fire. He only looked back, his eyes chill as ice.

_Nope, no surrender then …. _

After what seemed like hours, she finally acted. She shouted something, her voice muffled by so many layers of Shields Charms. Suddenly a black hole appeared in the air in front of her, sucking all the flames in like a void. In a moment, the flame was gone. Silvia's shield held intact, and she stood inside it, panting.

Harry didn't give her time to cool down.

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" he took off his shield and jumped aside, shouting stunners without stopping. Her shield had been weakened and she was vulnerable now. "Incarcerous! Stupefy!"

A mass of ropes shot out from the tip of Harry's wand, as well as four jolts of red light. He then took several steps forward, under the cover of his spells, and rolled behind Silvia.

"Stupefy! Incarcerous! Stupefy!"

This was a tactic Harry invented. The magical ropes functioned as a distraction, if the opponent was trapped by ropes, he will definitely be hit by the shower of Stunners. If somehow the opponent managed to keep off the Stunners, he would be hit by the binding spell. And since the spells cover such a large range, it was almost impossible to dodge. The Stunners can also be changed to other spells, such as the Avada Kedavra. The net of ropes and stunners covered Silvia in all directions, but she set up another Shield in time. The Stunners were absorbed and the ropes burned up in a flash of fire. This gave Silvia enough time to recover, as she launched a couple of disarming spells as well as what looked like jolts of golden sparks. Harry dodged them by throwing himself onto the floor.

The class stared open mouthed at the two duelers. All the DA members looked slightly thunderstruck and those who had just been boasting about their dueling abilities now looked embarrassed. Everybody's face had one thing in common: surprise. No one expected that a practice during a lesson could turn to a full-scale battle.

"Bloody hell Harry, if you're like this to me, how would you treat Death Eaters?" Silvia asked as she and Harry circled each other.

Harry's lips curved into a slight smile, his eyes warming up a little. "You think this is all I can do? Come on! You're not showing everything you've got, and nor am I," answered Harry, going over a list of spells in his head quickly. "And for your question: if you are a Death Eater, I'll use more fatal curses and you won't get out of this room a live."

Silvia smirked and waved her wand and hand together. A dozen moving dummies appeared in the room, chasing after Harry with stiff movements like zombies. Harry slashed his wand again and shouted "_Conflo_!" The dummies exploded into dust. After this, the two resumed circling each other.

"If we go on like this, I'm never going to finish the lesson," Silvia complained. "What about a draw for now? We can continue this sometimes later, I haven't met this kind of challenge for years."

Harry smirked. "Fine, you're the teacher, you decide." He withdrew his wand and pocketed them. Silvia did the same after taking down the Spectator's shield.

"Sorry people, for taking so long, but the lesson is about to finish so I announce the duel between Harry and myself as a draw. We can continue next lesson," she announced, addressing the dumbstruck class as she tidied up the classroom and moved back the tables. "During a real duel, of course, there won't be any time limit and if you fall, your second will take over your place. Real duels are much more ferocious than what we've displayed, so don't let our performance today fool you. Homework from this week onwards will be to practice your dueling technique, because your test before the Christmas holidays will be dueling with me. The person who lasts longest will be the winner, and the winner from each house in each year will have a dueling competition during certain event which is to take place during Christmas," her face broke into a big smile as she said this, her eyes shining secretively. "Damn, I'm a big mouth."

The class groaned - many people didn't get a chance to try some dueling. Nor did they want to, though, not after watching a duel between Harry and Silvia. Many people gave Harry sneaky looks as they walked out of the classroom, Hermione, however, stared at him pointedly, her meaning obvious: _wait. _

Harry did. Levitating his bag behind him, he stepped out of the classroom and waited outside in the corridor, leaning against the wall warily. He was feeling quite please after the duel, as he was rather sure that his magical ability was almost equal to Silvia's if not surpassing her. Now the urge to prove himself was gone, replaced by a sudden desire for a real trial, facing real Death Eaters. A small part of himself warned him not to be so impatient and impulsive, but the majority of Harry's mind wasn't listening. He desperately wanted to go out and find some Death Eaters, with or without planning. He needs to kill …

His thoughts were interrupted when Ron and Hermione finally showed up.

The trio stood in awkward silence for a minute. Harry eyed his best friends warily. _Former best friends._

"Well?" he asked, breaking the ice.

"Well," Ron and Hermione answered together. Ron snapped his mouth shut and left the talking for his girlfriend.

"Whatever you're hiding from us, Harry, Ron and I have decided that we don't care. What we want to ask is, would you come and teach the DA?"

Harry was torn. Part of him felt disappointed that they only wanted to ask him this, part of him felt relieved that they're no longer prying his secrets and part of him felt he didn't deserve their friendship. It didn't take him long to decide, however, because he wanted to resume teaching the DA long ago, he also wanted to give the club a different name. He wanted it to be _his_ army, not Dumbledore's.

"Ok," he gave Hermione a tentative smile. "I still have the coin. Next time there's a meeting, I'll show up."

Hermione looked satisfied as she took a step back. Now it seemed was Ron's turn to speak.

"Harry," Ron said seriously. "Whatever changed you, we know it's not about Sirius's death, at least not anymore. Please know this, both we are still your best friends, but only when you open up and accept us, can we be there for you."

It surprised Harry to hear Ron speak so seriously. This normally seemed to be Hermione's sort of thing. Part of him felt warm hearing this, and part of him wanted to open up to them at this moment. The rest of his brain knew, however, that if Harry gave up his secrets now, he would have to mention the Prophecy Voldemort wanted, and consequently will put them in danger. He nodded to Ron, giving him a grim smile.

"Believe me, Ron, it's better if you two stay away from me. It's for your own sake that I'm keeping things from you, things Voldemort want to know. Don't give me the 'I don't care' shit. You do care, and so do I. Associating with me will only endanger yourself and your family, the reason of which I'll tell you eventually. But please believe me, both of you, if anyone is hurt because of me again, I'll lose the only reason why I'm fighting, I'll lose the purpose of my life. I'm not rejecting you. When you are ready, I will tell you my secrets. Until than, I want to keep you safe."

Hermione opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, her eyes shining, but Harry ignored them and turned, retreating into the shadows of the corridor.

It was the evening of the following day. Shadows lengthened across the Forbidden Forest and greenish grey dusk deepened into a restless night. Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, in a chintzy armchair behind his desk, staring into empiness, lost in thought. Five stiff, wooden chairs bordered the wall of his office, forming near semicircle facing his desk.

Four of these chairs were occupied this night. All of them are the elite member of the Order of the Phoenix. It was an interesting choice of men, Dumbledore knew. Each member of this council differed in character, profession, personal history and judgment. The only similarities between them are their loyalty to himself and their enmity to the Dark.

However, what kind of judgment would each and every one of them exercise on the sudden change in the boy named Harry Potter? Studying their downcast faces, Dumbledore found that he did not know.

To his left was his deputy headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. As deputy headmistress, it was her job to administer the school when Dumbledore was absent, or if he was killed. An articulate, logical, sensible woman she was, yet occasionally Minerva showed reluctance to break rules, which was sometimes inevitably necessary. Although Dumbledore looked to her with great trust and respect, he wasn't sure of what she would say about Harry Potter.

Mad Eye Moody sat to his right, opposite to McGonagall. Alaster Moody had been a close friend of Dumbledore for many years. The trademark magical eye, the dry wood like face, gnarled and scarred hands altogether showed a lifetime of combat. Iron hard and straightforward, Alaster was usually the most predictable member of this inner circle, his usual method was kill first ask questions later, straightforward and ruthless. Dumbledore wondered if it would be same tonight.

Next to Moody sat Remus Lupin. The werewolf looked tired. There were grey patches under his eyes although his body looked firmer as a result of Molly Weasley's insistent "fattening up". Lupin was the least unpredictable member of the council. Mild-tempered and calm, he often show reliable judgments of difficult situations, yet Dumbledore could not deny the fact that he has a personal relationship with Harry, who once reminded him so much of his best friend, although not anymore.

Silvia was closest to Harry in personal terms in the room. She treated him as a mixture of son, brother and a close friend and for a while her feeling was returned. She was in no doubts the second most powerful person in this room. Now, sitting in her chair, she had an alert air around her, not speaking, watching in silence. Dumbledore was alarmed by her report touching Harry this morning and called this meeting as soon as possible. If there was one person with Harry's best interest at heart, it was Silvia, and Dumbledore knew that if Harry was really turning dark, she would be the first one to act.

Only one chair was still empty. The occupant of this chair was a curious choice to be present in this meeting. It was no secret that Harry hated him the moment they met, and the hate had developed into deep loathing during the course of the years. The missing person also had an interesting history. The man spent the last five years watching over Harry, protecting him despite his hate, and he was the one to show most trustworthy judgment this day.

The missing member of the council suddenly entered, closing the door silently behind him. He swept into the room darkly and settled in his chair. Dumbledore gave Severus Snape a small nod and begun the meeting.

"Very well," he spoke quietly, and all the heads snapped towards his direction. "We all know why we're here, but let's get the Order business over first. Severus, if you are ready…"

Snape stood up, his pale face and oily hair unpleasant as usual. He took a deep breath and began talking. The others listened attentively.

"We all know that Death Eater activity has been low recently, and there has been no movement from the Dark Lord at all since the Hogwarts attack. The secret was only known amongst his inner circle of Death Eaters, which I am no part of. This afternoon, however, the Dark Lord called a general meeting, during which he revealed what he had been doing for the last few months," Snape's looked extremely white, although his face showed no emotions. He continued curtly. "I told you before that the Dark Lord resided in the Prison of Azkaban for several weeks sometimes during September, and then he moved to the forest of Albania. Well, in the forestt, as he told us today, he performed a Summoning. It was an ancient ritual beyond my comprehension; all I know is that he summoned the spirit of a demon."

The others looked shocked. Only Silvia sat unflinching. Obviously, she knew this ritual from her studies of ancient magic.

"That was only the first stage of his – experiment – he calls it," Snape continued. "From what the Dark Lord described, he used muggle technology to achieve valuable body parts from rare magical beasts: venom from a manticore's tail, Graphorn hide, blood of a bicorn, and chimaera eggs. From a potion of his own invention that required unicorn blood and the breath of a nundu, the Dark Lord created a new physical form for the Demon. The worst ingredient is also the impossible one: the soul of a Dementor. Unfortunately for us, he had already let released it from magical confinement. I believed the demon is the cause of the mysterious death of muggles in Albania you mentioned earlier on."

The room was silent for a minute. Snape glanced around them and sat down again, looking grim. Dumbledore studied his thumb as if thinking.

"Thank you Severus," he said finally. "The situation is not as bad as I thought. I've dealt with demons before, but I still want you to do some digging if possible. It would help if I know what kind of a demon it is. Meanwhile, Alaster, you need to warn the Aurors and Silvia, we may need your skills and knowledge. This thing needs to be hunted down, when we find out what it is. I need you to do some research on ancient summoning."

Silvia nodded dutifully.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore. "I have a feeling that the weather has something to do with this Summoning, and that something is going to happen soon. I doubt Voldemort would stay low for any longer. He has gathered his army of giants, Dementors and other dark creatures; his Death Eaters have reached more than three hundred in number. Although it is not his style to strike openly, we must be especially alert. Extra protection will be needed for Hogwarts, and, I would like this information to be withheld strictly within this council, as it would only spread unnecessary fear when we are not even certain of the threat."

He looked around the room with his deep penetrating eyes, meeting the expected deference everywhere. Albus Dumbledore sighed deeply, taking off his half-moon glasses.

"This is not the reason I called you here tonight," he said. Silvia tensed up visibly. "The true reason I called for this council concerns the boy Harry Potter."

A look of bewilderment appeared on Remus and Moody's face, and while McGonagall's lips straightened to a thin line, Snape's lips curved into a sneer.

"The boy has changed," Dumbledore said simply, studying everyone's faces.

This statement was met by silence. Moody squinted at him through both of his eyes, normal one and magical one; Remus' tired face was marked by a frown and Snape didn't change expression at all.

"Most of you should have noticed by now, that Harry Potter is no longer the boy we knew," Dumbledore stated sadly, looking exceptionally old. "More confident, more silent, more powerful, more ruthless, more power-hungry, more alone. For a month, I watched him learning with an almost insatiable hunger. I did not intervene. It was his right to get prepared for what is waiting for him out there. However, recently I found that the boy's movement inside the school became almost untraceable, and he frequently disappeared during mealtime and in the evening. He was not on the school grounds."

Dumbledore paused, watching each member of the council's face closely, searching for understanding and found none. He sighed inwardly. These people, like him, no longer understood the boy's mind. May be they never did.

"Yesterday morning, Harry had a duel with Silvia during her class," Dumbledore continued. "Silvia, if you please…"

All the attention now focused on Silvia. She cleared her throat, looking tired and sad.

"Yes, I held a dueling competition yesterday morning and I dueled with Harry," she explained warily. "The last time I saw him using offensive spells was during the Hogwarts attack. It was impressive then. This time, the power he demonstrated was simply unimaginable from a sixteen-year old boy. He used the Blood Shield, the Inferno spell and the Explosion curse. All three of these are extremely powerful ancient spells which even I have to cast carefully, but he simply used them like the Expelliarmus. This wasn't what alarmed me, however. What scared me was the way his eyes looked. They were cold, merciless. It wasn't the look I know. Last time I looked into his eyes, I saw a sense of loneliness, helplessness and despair, but also warmth and a sense of love. It's completely different now. I've only seen the Dark Lord once, years ago, but I remember the look in his eyes perfectly well, and they were the same as Harry's."

She swallowed, her breath catching. The others looked very grim, and Remus's jaws were clenched as if containing some extreme emotions. Snape no longer had his smirk; instead, he had an iron-hard face. Dumbledore sighed as he leant back heavily.

"I made a mistake," he admitted softly. "Great powers come with the temptation to abuse them. I trusted Harry to withstand the temptation, now it seems that I was wrong. All of you here know the Prophecy. With that burden on his shoulder, I guess it is reasonable for him to desire more power. Also, the scar link and the residual memory left by Voldemort's possession may have affected his judgements. If we do not act soon, we might have created a new Dark Lord by acciden – "

Dumbledore never finished his sentence. His attention was diverted by Remus Lupin, who suddenly stood up, his eyes blazing with fury.

"ENOUGH!" Remus thundered, and the others snapped their neck towards him in surprise. Another smirk formed at Snape's lips while McGonagall looked angry. "I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a long time. Your biggest mistake, Dumbledore, is that you always think you understand people. Hadn't Harry proved himself to be more complicated than you thought at the end of his fifth year? Admit it, Albus, you don't know anything about the boy."

Moody was looking at the scene in a mixture of worry and amusement. Snape glared at Remus coldly, McGonagall's mouth was open in shock while Silvia looked like she agrees with everything Remus is saying. Dumbledore, however, studied the werewolf silently.

"I remember you telling me something about love saving Harry from temptation and Voldemort's possession. Well, the moment you left him with those muggles, you condemned him to a childhood of hate and despair. He lived in a cupboard under the stairs for Merlin's sake, and I doubt he had been hugged or kissed once by the Dursleys. No one ever loved him, Albus, so how do you expect him to love any one else? Voldemort is what he is because he doesn't know love. Well, admit it, nor does Harry." Lupin said angrily, glaring at Dumbledore. "And then what? You waited until the only person close to a father Harry's ever had were dead and broke the news of the prophecy to him, at the moment when his emotion is most fragile and vulnerable. Frankly I'm surprised he didn't explode right then!"

Dumbledore looked old and tired as he gazed sadly at Remus. The two stared each other for a moment, then Dumbledore spoke.

"But Remus, what would you have me do?" he asked. "Whatever mistake I made, I can not correct them now. The bond between Harry and Voldemort is too great, physically, mentally, emotionally and magically. The boy has already changed too much to change back."

Lupin's eyes glowed with fury again. He struggled for a moment to keep calm. "You know the solution, Dumbledore, but you are unwilling to take the risks. Do what you told me to do once. Have faith in him. Harry's nature is too good to be tainted by evil. He's kind, selfless – too good to turn to another Tom Riddle. You should know this - he had demonstrated these qualities before, but he needs time to adjust, he's in a position we can not comprehend. As for what to do, you know it as well as any of us here. We should be guiding him, loving him, giving him support, not segregating him, fearing him and doubting him. As for love, I'm sure he'll find love. After all James found Lily at this age. If I knew this I would have insisted on coming to Hogwarts," he panted heavily, his hand clenching the back of his chair tightly as he continued. "I'm disappointed with you too, Silvia. You know him as well as I do, may be better, so why can you not show the same trust? You've doubted him once after he had a vision, you doubt him right again now when he needs your trust."

Remus glared around the members of the councils. Silvia sat quietly in her chair, looking very small. There were tears clinging to her long eyelashes. McGonagall was looking at Dumbledore, whose deep blue eyes had lost their twinkle, filled with turmoil. Moody was nodding, while Snape looked like he couldn't contain himself anymore. He stood up brusquely spoke in a harsh whisper addressed at the Headmaster.

"Dumbledore, as much as I hate to admit it, I agree with Lupin."

His statement was met by surprise, even from Remus himself.

"Potter is not his father. I realized that much after the Fudge incident. James Potter was direct and simple. Harry Potter is not. I have studied him recently like everyone else here have. While he is insolent and arrogant, there is also a great depth to him which I can not fathom." Snape's voice was tight and forced, as if it's a pain to speak on Harry's behalf.

Dumbledore continue to look troubled. He cast another look around the room. McGonagall's lips were pursed into a straight line. She nodded when the headmaster caught her eyes. Moody growled something that sounded like "I agree with them", his normal eye hard on Dumbledore. Silvia still had a hesitant look, but she nodded as well. Remus continued to glare, while Snape's face was expressionless.

"Very well," he said finally. "If this is what you all think, then I shall give Harry one more chance. But know this, my friends, Harry Potter has the power to defy Voldemort. He must walk that path unguided. However, if anything goes wrong, we won't have another chance to stop him. "

Everyone looked at him, puzzled. Moody mumbled barely audibly: "why?"

Dumbledore studied them for a moment. His weary blue eyes did not twinkle.

"Because, sometimes very soon, his power will surpass even that of my own."

Harry wandered aimlessly in the Hall of the Chamber of Secrets, going over the things he wanted to say tonight, during the DA meeting.

The Chamber of Secrets is no longer recognizable. First of all Harry had removed the slime from the walls and floors. He purged the air of their Slytherin quality and summoned a thousand magical candles, floating aimlessly somewhere near the rooftop. He polished the carved snakes, making them look more real than ever, and also placed several torches of Gubraithian fire along the walls. The Chamber of Secret now looked cheerful and clean. All that was missing was some decorations, then it would be as good the Great Hall.

Harry paced around, occasionally summoning chunks of rock and blasting them to pieces, just for the sake of making some noise. The Chamber, no matter how he tried, always felt lifeless.

Ron and Hermione had been friendlier to Harry after their talk. They sat next to him in classes, although neither would begin talking with him like they used to. Harry was feeling more and more guilty. He knew that sooner or later, he would have to tell them about the prophecy. But they weren't ready. They weren't ready to kill in order to protect what they love, and the same problem applied to the DA. Harry had to be the one to prepare them. He checked his watch and groaned – the hour hand already crept towards seven while he wasn't watching. Bracing himself, he activated the amulet-Portkey…

…and reappeared instantly outside the room of requirement. The door appeared when he did, so Harry reached out a hand and pushed it open.

The secret meeting place of the DA was the same as he remembered. Cushions and shelves of books lined the room. Harry reached out a hand and a book from the nearest shelf zoomed towards him. _Complicated Self-Defensive Spellwork_, the title read. Harry flicked through it, finding the "complicated" spells absurdly simple. He checked several more books and found that none of the spells seemed particularly useful. He was disappointed. If these junks were what they had been learning, then they won't survive ten seconds in a battle. Sighing, he began replacing books, one by one.

At ten to seven, people began pouring in from the door.

Harry placed a concealment spell on himself and stood in a corner. First there was a gentle knock on the door. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and the Creevey brothers entered. Harry could see why Ginny liked Colin. He had grown a lot over the summer and like Ron, had somehow gained a fair amount of muscles. He wasn't the little jumpy boy Harry remembered, but dangled on his chest, the camera was still there. Immediately following was Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati and the Ravenclaws. They sorted themselves into preferred places and waited, chatting animatedly. Harry realized with a pang, that the room was full of couples. Ginny and Colin, Ron and Hermione, Cho and Michael Corner, Seamus and Parvati, Dean and Lavender… he had never felt more like an outsider before.

Seven o'clock, everybody had finally arrived and they gazed at the door expectantly…

Five past seven: the Ravenclaws began making clicking sounds with their tongue, looking impatient…

Ten past seven: the Hufflepuffs also began shuffling restlessly on their cushions…

Quarter past seven: Hermione finally spoke.

"Maybe we should continue without him," she said hesitantly, looking around. Many people looked angry.

"Maybe that sod thinks he's too good to teach us!" Zacharias Smith hissed impatiently.

"Shut up! Maybe Harry got held back or something, it's not up to you to guess!" Ginny snapped at him defensively.

"Yeah, maybe he has detention or something, like he always does these days," voiced Ron hesitantly, casting desperate looks at the door.

"Maybe…" Harry materialized from the shadows, whispering softly. "He's waiting for someone to be smart enough to check the room for spies before coming in."

The room instantly grew quiet, not unlike the way people do in Snape's class. Zacharias Smith blushed, while Hermione beamed at him. Harry ignored them both.

"If I was a Death Eater, you would all be dead by now," he said quietly, studying people's faces. Ginny gave him an impressed look, but he ignored her as well.

"Many of you do not want me to teach you, this much I know," he continued, watching Smith, who flinched and looked away under Harry's death-cold glare. "And since I'm here, I suppose we can settle this problem right now."

Harry took out his wand and stepped among them. No body moved a muscle.

"Not good enough," It was the same whispered voice. "How do you know I mean you no harm? When someone suddenly take out their wand, you should do the same, just in case."

Harry pocketed his wand and suddenly whipped it out again.

"STUPEFY!" he shouted, pointing the wand at Hermione and Ron's direction. A huge arc of red light sprang forth from his wand and wrapped around his best friends. Both passed out.

Harry put the want back to his pocket and scanned the group impatiently.

"_Constant Vigilance!_ Have you forgotten that? If it weren't a stunner I used, but a killing curse, then they would have died without a chance to fight back. Enervate."

Hermione and Ron woke up and eyed the surroundings groggily, suddenly both jumped up and drew their wand, not realizing that they have already been stunned.

"PROTEGRO!" They shouted together, waiting for the spell that never came.

Harry finally stopped pacing and stood in front of everyone on a raised platform. Ron and Hermione finally realized what happened. They sat down nervously, Hermione's face burning like Ron's hair. Ginny smirked a little, but the rest of the DA continued to look at Harry open-mouthed.

"Does anyone else have a problem with me coming back to teach? Don't worry, I'll leave if you ask," said Harry in his normal voice, looking around the room. When nobody moved, he clapped his hands together and rubbed his palm.

"Good, thanks for your support. But first, I want to change the name of this club. It will be the Defense Association, because I do not fight for Dumbledore."

Ginny blushed hearing the name Defense Association – it was she who first mentioned it last year. The others didn't object, they nodded their head silently and eagerly.

"Ok," Said Harry, feeling relieved and pleased at their deference. "I reckon you should divide into pairs like usual to practice for spells."

The DA followed dutifully, everybody getting onto their feet and sorting themselves into couples. With Cho's friend, Marietta gone, the class was evenly divided.

"First of all," said Harry as the members stood in regular rectangles. It seems Hermione did a good job to induce discipline and team spirit. "I will not only teach you defensive spells, but also offensive ones. Many will be illegal or classified, it's your choice whether you want to learn them or not, you only have to tell me if you want to quit. Voldemort is moving. I do not have time for little things like Expelliarmus. You need more effective methods to handle Death Eaters. Defensive charms are good, but also ineffective against the Avada Kedavra and other killing curses – the most common weapon of the Dark Lord."

Harry paced back and forth on his little platform. The others gazed at him, their heads swaying comically from left to right, following his movement.

"I don't want to lecture you, but these are information you must know. The Avada Kedavra is not the only lethal weapon. You need a lot of power to use it, and it drains your energy very quickly," explained Harry, telling them what he had learned from a book in the Restricted Section, one of the earliest he'd read. "A grown up wizard can cast only maximum ten times the killing curse, a powerful one twenty. So in action is best to use other spells. None of you are fully qualified wizards, so it would be too risky for anyone of you to take on a fully trained Death Eater alone. Therefore I want you to work in teams. There will be formations, combinations of spell and tactics to be learned. But mostly, you'll be learning how to kill."

For the next half an hour, Harry explained hit-teams, rescue-teams, medical-teams and the like to his fellow DA. They listened attentively. Hermione kept giving him strange looks that seemed to say: "you should have begun teaching a long time ago." Ron followed his instructions like everyone else did, not questioning his authority. Neville and Ginny simply had the look "I trust you." Even Zacharias Smith was surprisingly taking notes. None of them ever dreamed of learning what Harry is telling them.

Harry didn't teach them any spells that day. He wanted them to sort into teams among themselves. There were twenty-two people in the DA, and Harry's idea was to sort them into four groups of five, and a team of two for communication. For each group, two person were to do the brute job – stunners, sword charms, bludgeoning curses, blasting curses, etc; one person was to do the cover job – tripping jinx, illusion jinx, and anything to confuse or delay the enemy; one person was to play the defender, setting up shields for the two "Vanguards", protecting the rest of the team; and the last person was to be the Healer. Anyone wounded must be treated there and then. These were expected to join the Healing Club with Madam Pomfrey. When the DA was fighting together, and the Vanguards would form a team, Defenders form a team and so on. Harry wasn't a part of this. When there is a battle, he would be fighting on his own with no one to distract him. He liked the idea, but first of all, he needed the teams. One group was already there – Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna. Even the healer in that team was ready in hand: Luna, who had attended the Healing Club since first year. The five of them were always together since the Department of Mysteries incident.

_Since you nearly got them killed,_ A voice piped in.

Indeed, this five shared a bond the others didn't, and Harry needed the same bond of trust to exist in the other teams.

"I'll give you two weeks to sort yourself up," said Harry as he finished the meeting. "Don't let me down. Next meeting, we start on spells."

Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map and checked for sighs of teachers on the seventh floor. People waved at him as they left, and he nodded in return. Finally, it was just Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Ginny and annoyingly, Colin left in the room with him. Colin waited near the door, crossing his arms and clicking his tongue impatiently, looking at Ginny.

"Where did you learn these stuffs Harry?" asked Hermione tentatively. "I didn't even think of them, you were amazing."

Harry smiled. He walked around the room concentrating hard, and the bookshelves vanished one by one, replaced by several wooden dummies.

"I didn't spend the last two month for nothing," he explained patiently, still making moderation to the room. He animated the dummies so that they too can dodge and move randomly.

Colin's patience was finally spent. He called out for Ginny, and when she didn't move, he left the room frowning. The door snapped shut behind him.

"What are these for?" Ron asked, pointing at the dummies.

"You training," Harry summoned a squashy couch on his platform and settled there comfortably. "Voldemort has his inner circle or Death Eaters, I have my inner circles of DA. You guys are the ones I trust most, so I need you properly trained. Sit, guys. There's something I need to tell you."

Harry made an inviting gesture around the room, and several armchairs appeared. His friends settle down respectively, looking curious. Only Ginny was frowning at him, as if she knew what was coming next.

"Neville, remember the prophecy that was smashed in the Department of Mysteries?"

Neville nodded, and Hermione's eyes lit up.

"Well, basically, it says that I have the power to vanquish the dark lord," Harry stated simply. The other bit of information wasn't necessary. He could guess what their response would be. Hermione would burst into tears; Ron and Neville would look shocked and start treating him delicately like he was going to die soon. Luna probably won't react at all. Even now, the others were staring at him in unbelief.

"The problem is," Harry continued thoughtfully. "I don't have the power to defeat Voldemort. I certainly don't feel more powerful than he does. Voldemort himself doesn't know this though, which is why he's been a bit relaxed 'bout coming after me."

They fell into silence. Ron was looking proud and impressed. Hermione was looking worried. Neville looked awestruck. Luna looked like she didn't hear one bit of what Harry said. Ginny was chewing the corner of her lower lip, her eyes filled with something like remembrance. She didn't comment on the missing part of the Prophecy.

"But with or without the power, I'm still going to fight Voldemort," said Harry, breaking the silence. "We all know that there's been nothing on the _Prophet_ about strange deaths and disappearances or Death Eater attacks. Nothing to suggest that we are at war. Well, this is simply the calm before the storm. Both sides are preparing. Sooner or later Voldemort will strike."

The other five snapped out of their respective trance and listened to Harry, who was twirling his wand playfully in his fingers.

"The students performed pitifully last time Voldemort attacked Hogwarts, and that was just a few newly recruited, worthless Death Eaters and four Giants, not even a fraction of a fraction of his army. The attack wasn't planned to unnerve us, whatever the headmaster may have told you. It was a test on our strength." Harry's voice was distant. His wand continued to spin between his fingers. "Next time there's an attack, it would be more ferocious than this one. I don't expect all the students and teachers to get out of it unscratched, not at their present level. They will be depending on the DA, and you six."

"I'm not going to teach you that many powerful spells, because powerful spells are often illegal and Dark and involves personal sacrifice. You aren't ready," Harry smiled softly at the offended look on Hermione's face. "No, Hermione, I'm not saying you're not powerful enough. Whether I have the power or not, I'm going to kill Voldemort, and nothing will stand in my way. I have nothing to lose if I die, but you do. Each one of you here has a family to take care of and so you're not ready."

He stood up and pointed his wand at one of the dummies and shouted: "EXPELLIARMUS!" The dummy was thrown backwards, it smashed heavily into the wall behind it and its head broke off with a crack.

"Ok, enough talk. If that dummy were a real man, he would have been killed by a disarming charm. Disarming charm disarms, it doesn't throw things away, so why could I do that? Anyone?" asked Harry, pocketing his wand.

"Because you wanted to," responded Ginny softly, looking into his eyes.

Harry smiled. "Yes, because I wanted to. Magic is alive. For many spells, you can amplify certain characteristics of its behavior, making it more powerful. From today onwards, I would like you five to practice this. Not just the Disarming charm, but other simple ones as well. More complicated spells are more difficult to change, and has an unpredictable pattern. Try it, it's very useful."

Everyone looked interested and Hermione took out her wand eagerly. Harry smiled at her.

"Nah, not today Hermione. It's too late, you guys should get back." He took out the Marauder's map again.

"_You guys?_ What about you mate?" Ron asked. He seemed determined to forget the depression in their friendship, since Harry had opened up to them a bit, if not completely. Neville nodded at his side, puzzled. "And where do you go all these times. You rarely sleep in our dorm."

Harry beamed at him.

"Top secret." He winked at Ginny, who smiled back.

Far away from Hogwarts, concealed by anti-muggle charm, was what once the village of Little Hangleton. Its new name was "the Village of the Dead", because all who lived here were dead, their bodies rotting under layers of dirt beneath what used to be their home.

The Riddle House, as it was once called, was now the only place showing signs of life. It shone with a dull, green light.

Lord Voldemort sat in the living room facing the fireplace. Behind him, several hooded Death Eaters kneeled on the floor, their heads bent down deferentially.

"Very well Wormtail, luck seems to be on your side, you should thank Lucius for that." The voice was as chilly as the November wind, soft and high pitched. "Lucius, you have my gratitude. If he had escaped, my whole plan would be fractured. From now on, you will be the one in charge of watching over him. I hope you prove to be more _competent_ than our little sniveling mousy friend here."

On of the kneeling figures spoke, his voice smooth and oily.

"Of course my lord. I already have him locked up in the secret cell under Azkaban. There are Dementors and Death Eaters guarding him 24 hours a day, there is no way he could escape."

Voldemort laughed softly. "Of course. It's a bother to keep him alive, I know, but the Face Switching Potion only works on living people, and I need him alive for questioning, too. He ha proven useful, has he not? I would never have found out Potter's relationship with his family otherwise."

One of the Death Eaters raised his head and looked at the back the armchair hesitantly. He cleared his throat.

"My…MY Lord? Why don't we kill them all? Wouldn't it be simpler that way?"

"Good question, Macnair," answered Voldemort, still using the same lazy whisper. "Why not kill them all? Torture them and then kill them? I'll tell you why - because Dumbledore isn't as foolish as you think. He would have them well protected. I could penetrate their defense, of course, but betrayal is always more painful than loss. If I kill them, Harry Potter would be angry, he'd be drowned in guilt. But no, I want him singled out, friendless, betrayed, hunted, abandoned. Who would he turn to then?"

"Yes my lord, I understand now," mumbled the man called Macnair.

"Very good," the armchair slowly turned to reveal the pale face, snake-like red eyes of Voldemort. "Because then, when Harry Potter is isolated, I will set the Reaper upon him."

He beckoned a finger. The Death Eaters began to shiver. The temperature of the room dropped in raw fear.

From a corner of the room, stepped out a shadow.

* * *

REVIEW TIME!

imgonnadie: I will continue it, thanks!

AussieBloke: thanks!

Harry Foureyes: great observations there ... Dumbledore will turn for the better, so will his relationship with his friends ... that is until I decided to tear them apart. oops...

lluvatar: lol ... i'm sorry he wont be able to transform any time soon. there is something special about transforming into a black phoenix, i'll explain that soon

jbfritz: thanks, i will

seekergirl101: thanks! i left it somewhere around chapter 20. im not sure if it'll be as fast then, because i haven't really writen most of the story after that. i'm trying to though.

kliewer: well ... his Soul Orb is actually the egg of his animagus form - a black phoenix.black phoenixes feed on life and magic, which is what happened to Silvia.

Phoenix2500: thanks! i'm glad ppl think my story is original.

Junky: lol, Ginny isn't going to find out any time soon, but when she does ... i'm not telling. anyway - it's my rule to answer all the reviews. if you guys are nice enough to leave a word for me, then i owe it to you to say something back.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen: **

**News and more news**

A/N: I'm not very romantic, so please don't expect any fluffy stuff. Just thought I should tell you first .

* * *

Harry felt more alive over the following month than he ever had since school started. It was almost as if he was back in his fifth year, teaching the DA and talking with Ron and Hermione (and although he still withheld information, neither of them tried to pry into his business anymore). Teaching the DA had in some ways bridged the gap between him and his old friends, especially Ron and Hermione. The DA members were also improving at an amazing speed. After forming four groups, Harry had them fighting against each other using formations and spell combinations. He was confident that five of his DA members could easily take on five Death Eaters, judging from what he saw in the Department of Mysteries. After each meeting, his inner circle stayed behind and received special training from him. Ginny, it turned out, was the most talented dueler in terms of speed, agility and reflex. Ron and Neville were clumsier and both preferred destructive spells, moving very little in a duel. Hermione used her knowledge of spells and jinxes to make up for her moderate reflex and speed. Luna, being the worst dueler, had the best healing skills and stayed behind the line. After a month of training, the five of them could last longer than thirty minutes fighting him. This was great improvement indeed considering when their meeting began, Harry could stunned all of them with just several waves of his wand.

Holding regular meetings during the week proved easier than he thought, mostly because Quidditch practices couldn't begin until after Christmas due to the abnormally cold weather. Although most of the teachers knew of the existence of the club, Harry still preferred to use the coins. Secrecy was a part of the DA. He didn't want Death Eaters to attack the school knowing that they will meet strong resistance.

So life settled into a dull cycle for everyone else. They woke up, they ate breakfast, they attended lessons, and they ate dinner. At Monday, Wednesday and Friday night, the DA had meetings. The greenish, depressive aura still clouded the school, and the weather remained unnaturally gloomy. But as Christmas drew near, distraction finally came.

"Potter! Do you mind paying some attention?"

Professor McGonagall's irritated voice snapped Harry out of his trance. He was thinking about an unsettling feeling he'd experienced several times recently, like as if something was about to happen soon.

It was the end of their Transfiguration lesson; Harry had finished his work two minutes after class started, turning Ron into a pig with red hair and back (he desperately wanted to try the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, too); he had even finished his homework, which was set at the beginning of the double period (describe the limitation of human/animal transfiguration). He spent the remainder of the lesson staring emptily into space, until McGonagall's voice whipped him mind back into the real world.

"Now, if all of you have finished copying down the homework," she shot Harry another vehement look. "I have some good news to tell you."

"Due to the success of the Yule Ball two years ago, the Headmaster has been planning another Christmas party this year, to lighten up the atmosphere during this critical time," she said frowning, as if doubting whether this was a good idea. "This will be a party, so everyone in the school is invited. There will be a dueling competition as entertainment, and everyone can try it as long as they're brave enough to challenge the entire school. There will also be a ball, and although this will be an informal occasion, formal attire will still be required and you still need partners if you wish to participate."

As expected, Lavender and Parvati broke down into a fit of giggles. Both nudged their respective boyfriends. Ron and Hermione shared a look and smiled. Neville had a dreamy expression, undoubtedly thinking of Luna. Harry gave a little snort. _At least this year you don't have to dance, _a little voice whispered in his head. _Just go for a drink will do._

The bell rang. McGonagall looked as if she wanted to say something, but it seemed she didn't want to disturb the happy faces in her class, so she dismissed them. Before they left, however, she called above the usual scuffle of bag-packing, "Potter – a word, if you please."

Reflecting sardonically on the similarity between people's reaction to that of the Yule Ball two years ago, Harry proceeded lazily to the teacher's desk. Behind him, his back packed itself and trailed after like a model pet.

McGonagall didn't look up to him as she tidied up her desk. Harry watched her shuffled papers, messed them up, and shuffled them again. He could almost hear the groans of different parts of her brain as they struggled put into words whatever she had in mind. Ron and Hermione were busily bickering about what they would wear and seemed to have temporarily forgotten their newly regained best friend. Harry shrugged and waited until the class cleared up.

"Well Potter, what do you think of the party?" Professor McGonagall glanced up at him, her hands still fidgeting restlessly in the Un-McGonagall way.

Harry considered for a moment. To be honest he found it really stupid. How on earth could people have the mood to dance when Voldemort was roaming free out there?

"Well, I think it'll be alright, as long as the security's tight. If Voldemort attacks on the day of the party, we'd be caught defenseless like fishes in a net," he replied, shrugging.

Professor McGonagall winced at the name of Voldemort but attempted to hide it. She then proceeded to give Harry one of her rare, impressed smiles as a distraction.

"That's what we're worried about," she gave him a look that was usually reserved for Hermione only. "And that's where you come in. We need your help."

Harry found the entire situation ironic. For the last two month, nobody would say a word to him as if he was the representation of evil, now everyone was treating him nice and friendly like he was the savior of the world.

"Oh yeah? How?" Harry raised a slightly cold eyebrow to her, trying his best to look comically quizzical instead of bitterly sardonic. "You want me to patrol the corridors with a dozen armed guards, seal the school gate magically, cover the Great Hall with a giant Shield, put Trigger Alarm Spell on all the doors and windows, monitor all the secret entrances of the school, and to be a body guard for every single person in the school?"

McGonagall swallowed awkwardly.

"No. That would be our job. We need you to take care of the students if something happens, protect them if you can. Not that I think anything is going to happen," she added hastily, avoiding Harry's piercing gaze.

Harry shrugged indifferently, "K, I'll do my best. But if something happens, I'm not promising I'll keep everyone alive."

McGonagall resumed shuffling papers.

"Your best would be enough."

For the next few days, Harry was forced to remember the Yule Ball of his fourth year (not that it was an unpleasant experience). The bleak and depressive mood lifted drastically, and everywhere he went, from the lowest and darkest dungeons to the highest towers, even the Owlery, the only thing people talked about was the accursed Christmas party and the damned ball.

_Just because you are concerned with Voldemort, it doesn't mean everyone else are. _A sly voice in his head reminded him repeatedly until Harry squashed the thought and resumed roaming the school gloomily.

The girls were always interesting to observe, Harry noted. Girls giggled when boys passed, swaying their hips purposefully; girls made retching noises when a particularly facially displeasing boy appeared; girls gossiped about who was going with whom to the Ball; girls everywhere… Harry had half in mind that the girls were deliberately making themselves noticeable to boys, including him, but he didn't have anyone to discuss this with, as Ron was too preoccupied with Hermione. None of their helped though, because he was tempted to use the Mirror in his private room to spy again and would have done so if he just spared himself one moment from his training.

"So, what do you think of this ball thing then?" Harry asked Ron one night as a random topic, just to keep talking. It was rather late and the common room was almost deserted except for them and a few fifth year girls.

"Party," Ron corrected. "Why? It sounds great. Imagine it, the whole school's out. I s'ppose we'll have the dorms free."

He was looking at Hermione suggestively, who blushed and swatted him on the arm.

Harry rolled his eyes, looking away. "Party, ball, whatever. So everyone's coming then?"

"Of course. At least everyone in the forth, fifth and sixth year are coming," this time it was Hermione who answered, lapping Ron's head as if it were an overgrown teddy bear. "Aren't you, Harry?"

Harry was staring at the fire in the common room, studying the shape, the randomness, and the power of it, wishing to be a part of that warmth.

"Huh? Nah, I'm coming for a drink. That's it."

Ron claimed back his head and sat up, bumping into Hermione's chin. Hermione gave pained yelp and covered half of her face with her hands desperately like her jaw was falling off. She then fixed Ron with her death glare and forced him to apologize with a trail of kisses. Harry observed the scene with raised eyebrows until they remembered to look surprised at his declaration.

"But mate, come on, you can at least try the dueling competition and have a few rounds of dance."

Harry's eyes turned back to the fire. Somewhere close to his left, the fifth year girls including Ginny started giggling madly, much to his annoyance.

"I don't think any students in this school can last longer than five minutes dueling me on their own, anyway I don't have time for that kind of crap. I'll prefer to practice some spells on my own" Harry shrugged again. He resumed to studying the fireplace, ignoring the mad giggles and shrieks of laughter.

Ron and Hermione shared a worried look.

"Harry, don't you think you're treating this training thing too seriously? You need some rest and a lif –"

Hermione's words were cut off as Harry suddenly snapped his head towards her. To her relief, Harry didn't look angry.

"You think I don't want a life, Hermione? I want a life more than anyone else does here. How do I feel, when I watch people pairing up and holding hands in the corridor? How do I feel when you and Ron tell each other 'I love you'? How do I feel when I hear the guys talking about Quidditch?" his voice was sad, tinged by a slight trace of desperation that neither Ron or Hermione heard before. "But I don't feel anything anymore, Hermione. I don't feel the same kind of bond between you Ron and me like I did before. I don't feel love or trust. There's no joy, only bitterness and despair. This is the price I paid for power and the bloody prophecy. I can't help it, not if I want to survive, not if I want to live on."

The magically lit candles and the fire in the fireplace dimmed with each syllable Harry spoke. The air grew heavy and pressed on everyone like a solid rock. The fifth year girls weren't giggling anymore. They stared around franticly, not having heard what Harry said. Ginny, however, didn't move since Harry began talking. Now she stared at him, transfixed like Ron and Hermione. Harry turned and gazed at the fireplace. The fire ignited again in his eyes. He swallowed and clenched his jaws, the profile of his face emphasized by dim firelight. Slowly, the lights returned.

"Well, it's rather late, I'll go. See you tomorrow," Harry stood up abruptly and departed, without give his friends a chance to speak.

Ron and Hermione stared behind him, both deeply touched by the emotion behind his words, but both utterly confused. Adding to their surprise, Ginny got up and followed Harry, a look of determination on her face.

Ginny headed towards the place she expected Harry to go, going over what he had said in her mind.

All her life she believed that boys were easy to figure out like her six brothers, but not so with Harry Potter. After hearing the prophecy from Harry and after visiting his "home", she prided herself on knowing Harry so well. Now, however, she felt she barely understood him at all. She didn't know Harry was feeling so desperate. He always had dark patches under his bloodshot eyes these days and he even had a generous amount of grey hair. Ginny assumed these to be from pure exhaustion and the extra work he put on himself for the DA. But now she realized that Harry wasn't simply drunk with fatigue like she thought. He was mentally exhausted.

Being the sister of Fred and George, she had the extraordinary gift of cheering people up. But whenever she was with Harry, she found she couldn't do much to make him laugh. It was as if Harry Potter was sadness itself. Ever since this summer, his face had been marked by grief and sometimes a hunger she couldn't understand. Sometimes he reminded her of Tom Riddle, but sometimes he was Riddle's polar opposite. Harry's revelations tonight gave her a new understanding of him: she should never have tried to understand Harry Potter, because she never can.

The Owlery was cold, and Harry's cool mood seemed to make it colder. He was gazing through an opening to the sky when Ginny entered. She entered carefully, ready to dodge when his defense mechanism came into action. But the expected stunning curse never came.

"I'm the saddest person on earth, aren't I?" Harry didn't move or turn. The sky rumbled above them, distant thunder rolled in and crashed against the castle. It looked as if another of those crossbreed snow-rain storms was about to begin.

"No you're not," Ginny answered bluntly, stopping several steps to his left. She looked searchingly into the sky, matching Harry's posture. The greenish grey storm clouds made her feel sick. The owls hooted behind them, their sound oddly amplified and distorted, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Harry let out a long sigh. With a wave of his hand a transparent Shield appeared above Ginny just as the first raindrop fell. He didn't flinch as wind blew water into the opening. The owls hooted again and fluttered to the other side of the Owlery, away from the source of that raw, rotting fish smell.

"So Gin, you're going to the party then?" he finally turned to look at her, his voice muffled by the pouring outside. He was half soaked; his hair was dripping wet as it flickered about his face. Puffs of mist formed with every breath he let out and he stood there shivering slightly.

"Yeah, with Co – " she paused. Did he just call her "Gin?"

"With Colin," Harry finished for her, his voice cold and distant again. He lifted a hand and removed a flock of wet hair. He turned to look at the rain. "So how is he? As a boyfriend I mean."

The question caught Ginny by surprise. She didn't know he cared.

"Oh – fine," she answered briskly, finding the subject a little touchy. She didn't like talking about her relationships with another boy, especially not Harry Potter.

Harry seemed to have understood her meaning. He shrugged and turned to the stairs.

"Well, that's good," he said quietly. "Anyway I'm going to change. See you tomorrow."

Harry walked down the stairs, his shoulder slumping. He reached up and touched the Portkey hanging on his neck. After a few seconds, he melted into the darkness, leaving a very confused Ginny Weasley behind.

_London…_

_The girl's last lift dropped her in a small, closed supermarket – she never asked for the name of the street. The engine's grunts and thrashings died away. It was late. Only one street lamp was lit, it fizzed, lighting only a small patch of ground below it. The rest of the street was covered by blunt shadows of the night. The girl tried car doors as she trotted aimlessly down the street, looking for a place to sleep in. With some luck she may find a big car with enough space to stretch out. She paced around, trying one after another and only managed to set an alarm off – so much for luck. _

_The girl made her way to a deserted park she passed earlier on. The benches were always a good place to lie on, especially when she was dressed warm enough. The park was almost pitch-black. Distant streetlights glinted in the dark like preying eyes. The girl climbed onto the bench closest to her, flicking away a still-wet condom. Her bones felt soft, her strength were dripping out like melting ice and the shadows lapped it all up. _

_She drifted off to sleep. _

_Shadows crept upon her. Her chest rose up and down rhythmically. A cold, wet breeze caressed her cheek, tickling her exposed neck. A several meters away, a stray cat observed the stray girl pityingly. The shadows became heavier, descending upon her like a thick blanket. A blurred shape materialized from the shadows, cloaked with the gloom of midnight. The shape extended and wrapped around the girl. Suddenly came a muffled scream, a sucking sound, then nothing: the shadows were gone, the shape was gone, and the sounds were gone. The girl was gone too._

_The cat stepped forward. With an agile jump it sprang onto the bench, sniffing for the scent of the human who was here just a second ago. It found nothing. There was no scent of either the living or the dead. The cat jumped off the bench quizzically and padded into the shadows of the decaying trees - _

_- a screech, then nothing. Silence drifted back into the park, and the silence lasted. The cat didn't come back. _

As they entered the last week of the term, the atmosphere became increasingly boisterous. Harry found it hard to understand why people could spend time thinking about a stupid _party_ when there was supposed to be a war going on. He could hardly blame them, however, as nothing in the newspapers suggested that Voldemort was moving. He suspected that the Ministry is controlling the press, and any news on Death Eater activities was censored.

Frustration began building up in his system again, since Harry had no source of information and couldn't leave the school grounds without alerting Dumbledore. He desperately wanted to do something about this war but couldn't find a way. Members of the Order of the Phoenix appeared constantly in the school, but pulled away quickly when Harry tried to pry something important from them.

_I thought I was the one to defeat Voldemort,_ He thought to himself sardonically as he watched Silvia, Remus, Moody, Snape disappeared in the corridor leading to the Headmaster's office. _How am I supposed to fight him when I don't even know where he is?_

Unfortunately, Harry had run out of things to learn among the books he had access to, and all he could do now was practice. He couldn't even distract himself by training the DA because nobody had enough focus. Like the teachers, Harry gave up on teaching and the DA sessions became parties for the members. Harry had to force himself to listen to small gossips such as Dumbledore inviting the Weird Sisters again and watch people flirting with each other during what was supposed to be his training time. The teachers seemed so preoccupied with something that even McGonagall disappeared frequently during her lesson, giving people free periods. In fact, the only person in the school who bothered with teaching was Snape.

Potion lessons for Harry was actually better than last year. Snape ignored him for most of the time and made little snide comments. Today, Harry walked into the dungeon classroom and sat down in his usual place at the side of the room. Snape swept into the room in his customary sweeping manner, stony faced. But as he glided past Harry's table, he unobtrusively dropped a slip of parchment into his lap without even a glance at him. Snape continued to march on to the front of the room, and began his lesson curtly.

"Today, we will begin brewing Polyjuice potion," he glanced in Harry's direction with a sneer. Ron and Hermione were sitting behind him. "Dumb as most of you are, I hope you have enough brain to remember what I have warned repeatedly for the last two weeks. This is an extremely complicated potion, and any faults in it may turn the person's appearance irreversibly." He waved his wand at the board, and the instructions for the potion appeared. "These are your instructions, the ingredients are in the cupboard, you may begin today. The Potion should be finished by the time you return from Christmas holidays."

While Snape was issuing the directions for the lesson, Harry stole a sneaky look at the parchment. The note was simple and straightforward:

_Stay behind after class, Snape._

Harry read and reread the note several times to make sure that it actually said what he thought did. Snape was actually asking him to stay behind, without any insults too. He rubbed the parchment into a little ball between his palm and flicked it into the air, where it promptly burnt up in a burst of flame.

"That would be five points from Gryffindor and a detention after this lesson," Snape snickered in front of him. Apparently, he had been watching. "I thought I said that Polyjuice potion is sensitive to fire. You could have got the classroom blown up. Remember this next time before you reject information from that unpenetrable skull of yours."

Malfoy and several other Slytherins laughed loudly. Harry opened his mouth to argue back, but Snape gave him a meaningful glance, which calmed Harry down. He shot Malfoy a malevolent look before continuing with his potion.

Nobody really made any progress that lesson. Polyjuice potion needed a month to complete and no one was in the mood anyway. Behind him, Ron and Hermione were arguing again about dress robes and hair.

"- come _on_ Hermione, just wear the same one you had last time, you were damn sexy."

"No! It's getting too small. I've grown a lot since then, now it's a bit tight across the chest – "

Harry nearly choked on hearing this. _Did she actually say that?_ He wondered to himself.

"- _No Way!_" it was Ron's turn to whisper fiercely now. Harry didn't catch the sentence before it. "I am _not_ wearing a sleeveless! It's bloody winter, people will say I'm a show off!"

"Come _on_ Ron, I'd be the one showing off," Hermione moaned. She then whispered something incoherent, but Harry thought he caught the word "topless".

He was spared of more suffering as the lunch bell finally rang. The others stored up their unfinished potion and packed their back. Harry sat back idly and watched. He bade a forced "see you later" to his friends and waited until the classroom cleared up. It seemed that people were almost desperate to get out of the dungeon, which was sickeningly gloomy these days.

"Well Potter," Snape fixed his eyes upon Harry with a cold glare. He waved his wand at the dungeon door, which slammed shut. "Last time we were alone, it hadn't been a pleasant experience."

Harry held his gaze evenly. He would not let Snape humiliate him, if Snape was foolish enough to try, Harry would gladly smash all his limbs. But first there was something that needed to be done. Something he had been thinking about ever since his last visit here.

"Professor," Harry suddenly spoke. His tone, Snape was surprised to hear, was filled with a little respect. "First of all, I would like to apologize to you on my father's behalf. From what I have seen in your pensive, I feel ashamed of my father's behavior, but I would like you to forgive him, because he's been dead for almost sixteen years. It's useless to hold grudge on a dead man."

Snape was shocked speechless. He studied the dark haired boy in front of him, trying hard to figure him out and failing. Finally, after a minute of silence, he regained his voice.

"What possessed you to do that, Potter?" Snape asked in an unusually quiet and even tone, without a hint of a sneer.

Harry's gaze didn't waver. "We're on the same side. We have the same enemy, Voldemort, so that makes the enmity between us trivial. I'm not saying that I'll forget six years of unfair treatment from you, because I won't forget. Every humiliation I suffered from you now has turned to energy that drives me forward. I know I have been rude to you. I don't forget, but I can forgive. And I hope you can do the same at least for the moment."

Snape studied the boy silently, his dark eyes glinting. He had met his fair share of powerful wizards during his lifetime. Here stood a boy whom he knew could kill him with a finger and not even wincing about it. But so much unlike Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, this boy was able to put down his status and accept his mistakes, even apologize for something he hadn't done. The hatred of James and Harry Potter didn't subside. It couldn't. But for the first time ever, a stronger feeling took over - respect. Snape gave him a short nod and extended his hand. Harry took it with a small smile.

"Well Potter, this certainly isn't what I asked you to stay behind for," Snape commented dryly. However, there was no more malice in his voice. Harry raised an eyebrow at the tone, but didn't comment. He didn't expect Snape to give him hugs and kisses. This would do for the moment. "I asked you to stay because there is some information you should know about."

Snape paced to his desk and sat done stiffly. Harry didn't move but continued to look at him expectantly.

"What do you know about demons, Potter?"

Harry was caught by surprised. Yes, he did know something about demons, but he didn't expect Snape to know.

"Well, they exist on a different Plane of the universe. On our plane, they are insubstantial beings, not confined in a body although Muggles tend to link them with ugly magical beasts. Ancient, powerful warlocks were able to summon them via complicated rituals and sacrifices by opening a portal and then creating a physical body for it. The results, however, were often unstable because demons were difficult to control. Only the most powerful ones dared to try and subdue a demon. Usually, the more powerful the body, the longer the demon lasts. Why do you ask, sir?" Harry felt oddly satisfied to see Snape's dumbstruck face. He guessed he must have looked like Hermione when she had successfully answered a difficult question.

Professor Snape had to recover his ability of speech for the second time that day. He must admit that the boy never ceased to amaze him.

"Well, what do you know about killing a demon then?" he asked cautiously, as if he knew what the response would be.

"They can't be killed. Demons are truly immortal. You can, however, destroy their body, which is as good as killing them. There are also rituals which send a demon back to _its_ plane of existence. There are spells to suck the essence of the demon into your body, which will boost your power almost infinitely or prolong your life. Not many people survived this, of course. Human body won't be able to support magical force of this scale and you'll explode. Maybe that's why Voldemort never tried it. He certainly knows the spells and the rule: if you successfully free a demon's essence from its physical form, i.e. by killing it, the demon will offer you its power. From what I know, a moderately strong demon's power can match all those transformations he performed on himself, and it won't disfigure him like potions did. Unluckily, he never tried it. He would have exploded otherwise and saves me the trouble of killing him." Harry explained smugly. "I'll ask again, why do you ask?"

Snape suddenly stood up and tossed some bottles against the wall in what seemed to be frustration.

"Bloody hell, all these risks – these time – what a bloody waste – " he muttered to himself furiously, clenching his fist and struggled not to yell by stumping his foot. After a while, to Harry's amusement, he calmed down. "Well Potter, if I had asked you earlier, we may have saved unnecessary loss of time. The Dark Lord has summoned a demon. Yes –" he nodded, seeing Harry gasp. "He is, after all, the most talented wizard of his time. He also made an indestructible body for it. So far only the inner circle of Death Eaters have seen what it looks like. To the rest of us, it's only a shadow. Silvia did some research and after three weeks she came up with more or less the same as what you've just said."

_Of course_, Harry though. Silvia wouldn't know much about this – Harry himself only found the information in Slytherin's private study and Silvia didn't have access to that sort of information.

"The order would like to get rid of it then?" Harry said quietly, not taking his eyes off the potion master. "Why are you telling _me_ about it?"

Snape felt uncomfortable under Harry's piercing gaze, but he wasn't a man to show his fear openly. He didn't turn away.

"Dumbledore doesn't want this information to spread. But I have a feeling – from something the Dark Lord have said – that there is a plan against you. Also – and don't ask me how – he has somehow made you the demon's ultimate target," Snape looked very awkward for the limited information he was providing. He was also surprised to see that Harry's face didn't change when he learnt the Dark Lord was hunting him. "Dumbledore wants too keep this secret because it will spread _unnecessary_ fear, but I thought – and so did Lupin and your precious godmother – that it's best if you knew."

Snape shifted his eyes. The boy didn't look bothered at all, unlike he anticipated. He felt something like disappointment twisting in his stomach, as well as amazement. Still, his pale face showed nothing.

Harry stood up and gathered his bag.

"Well, thank you for that information. This is something Dumbledore never thought of – that if he didn't keep things from me, I might have saved myself," Harry bowed his head a little to the potion master – who flinched. "I thank you again sir – your information may save my life." He turned and walked towards the door.

Severus Snape gaped at the retreating form of the boy again. This is yet another difference between Harry and the headmaster. Dumbledore would never show his gratitude like this. Somehow, he felt that beneath layers of carefully built up hatred and contempt towards the boy, he would rather work for the boy named Harry Potter.

Harry suddenly paused turned before the door.

"Sir, I would greatly appreciate it if you would inform me of any more development in this matter, any information may help me to prepare myself," he said gently, persuasively, in a voice Snape never heard him use before. Professor Snape nodded silently. Harry flashed him what seemed to be a genuinely grateful smile.

"Thank you very much sir."

Snape nodded again and watched the door shut with a quiet snap. He let out a deep breath and paced to his office, where he promptly buried his face in a pensive, to record his extraordinary encounter today.

Outside his office, Harry walked slowly along the dungeon corridors, his face half concealed by shadows. He had won a powerful ally today. He wore a triumphant smile.

In the darkness of the Riddle house, Lord Voldemort sat quietly, his eyes closed. When they opened again, the red slits flared up in anticipation. A large snake twisted sinuously by his feet like a pile of thick ropes. The room was lit by faint firelights in the fireplace. Voldemort's eyes flickered towards the fire, which flared up instantly, casting an out-of-place radiance to the room.

He sat motionless, expectantly, and finally there was a knock on the door.

"Enter," he hissed softly, but loud enough for the person to hear. The door opened and closed again, with only a faint click. The person tiptoed cautiously towards Voldemort's chair and as he kneeled, several strands of silver hair escaped his hood.

"Lucius," Voldemort muttered softly, but enough to startle the man. "Yes, I know it's you. I smelled you when you entered."

Lucius Malfoy gulped. All the Death Eaters hated it when their master spoke in whispers, it always manage to make them shiver. Malfoy fought down the uneasy terror – the Dark Lord only valued bravery.

"My Lord, everything is ready. My man has memorized enough information about that Weasley son, after all he only needs to impersonate him for a few minutes then he'd be dead."

The armchair tweaked and turned. Lord Voldemort surveyed the kneeling man before him, twirling his wand playfully between his fingers.

"Ah, stand up and take a seat old friend. You've done well. I shall reward you when the matter is finished _successfully_," he said lazily, the crimson eyes flashing. "The Reaper brought back another soul-less muggle woman yesterday. I think the boys would find her entertaining. How is Bella?"

Malfoy climbed up. Keeping his head bowed he made his way to a chair on the side of the room and sat down stiffly.

"She's getting stronger, my lord. Her wounds are beginning to heal."

Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. The large snake twisted into his lap, flicking her tongue at his bony hands.

"Very good. I hope she learnt her lesson. It was a foolish thing she did, standing in the Reaper's way. A demon has no compassion. It's full of hatred, being bound to this world by force. It would only obey me, I hope you all understand this by now," Voldemort stroked the snake's head with a finger.

Malfoy looked more and more uncomfortable. "Yes my Lord, we have may Lord."

The snake twisted sensually. It would have moaned if it could.

Voldemort put back his pale face and sniffed, his slit-shaped nostrils widening and narrowing again like ventilator.

"I smell hesitation," he said quietly. "Come on, say it."

Malfoy gulped, sneaking a glance at his master's face and only to find the blood-red eyes staring at him coldly.

"Out of respect, my Lord, but my son has sent me some news concerning Harry Potter that is – is disturbing," Malfoy squeezed shut his eyes, bracing for the Cruciatus curse. The pain didn't come. He risked another glance and found that his master was looking down at him interestedly. He took this as a sign to continue.

"Well my lord, apparently Harry Potter dueled with that Silvia woman, and the result was a draw. He also dueled with other students in her lesson and none of them lasted more than several seconds. Are you sure that the Reaper alone is enough to kill him?" He finished this sentence in one breath, terrified.

Voldemort laughed softly.

"Very good Lucius. Doubt is good. Doubt forces you to rethink your plan. If only I had doubted last time …" his voice trailed of into a whisper. "The Reaper is a demon. Demons use a different kind of magic. Wand magic can not harm them, only damage their physical body in this world. Reaper's body is almost indestructible. It would require Dumbledore or even I quite an amount of power to destroy it. I doubt if all my Death Eaters put together is a match of it. You've seen how easily the Reaper wounded Bella, and she was the strongest of you all. Even if, through some miracle, Harry Potter's power increased like your son reported, he would still be squashed like a bug. And don't forget – the Reaper is part-Dementor as well, Potter's worst fear. I hope that satisfies your hesitation."

The blond man gave another bow. "Yes my lord, I no longer doubt now. But my lord, how can we make sure that Dumbledore doesn't intervene?"

Voldemort turned back to the fire. His snake glided onto the floor and straightened up, assuming an almost human-like posture.

"This is where you come in. The Face Switching potion is almost complete. Your man will drink it and pay Potter a little visit. You did tell him to try and kill Potter, did you?" The voice was suddenly sharp. Malfoy nodded nervously, looking quizzically at the snake. "Ah, well if your son's information is correct, then Potter would kill to defend himself. Then what? He would be cast out of Hogwarts or he would flee. In any case, my Reaper would be waiting. The Reaper will kill him for me, and this time I would see him dead."

Voldemort's word had a tone of finality to them. Malfoy took the hint and left, head still bowed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Voldemort making a motion with his wand. The snake's body prolonged and widened until it turned to the form of a naked woman, still giving hissing sounds. He sneaked a glance at the woman: her skin was covered with smooth scale, and she had no nipples. Malfoy felt a wave of disgust. With another gentle click, he closed the door.

* * *

**Thank you for all these lovely reviews, and to those who didnt review me, thanks for reading . **

James Evans: lol, i'm only fast because I've already finished the first 20 chapters. in fact, i've posted them before. all i'm doing right now is correcting it. the

gloves will come soon!

Harry Foureyes: no. no one around harry is a spy. he can sense it if they are. i do what harry does sometimes - pull away from my friends and get close again.

maybe we both have bipolar depression or something. I'm sorry you dont like my phoenix, but the story gets more wild later. hope you'll keep reading . You

will soon get to see the Death/Death action - my fav part to write.

Actually i'm not anti-dumbles... i just think he's too old and slow and insensitive. I'm not gonna have Harry kill him like alot of the fics out there do.

**LegalAlien**: thanks!

imgonnadie: thanks!

**calamur**: lol, thanks alot! i didn;t know that . i can't change it now though ... i'll do it when i revise the whole thing. thanks alot anyway.

jbfritz: thanks!

Sweetie813: thanks, i'm blushing

Apocalypse19: you're absolutely right. i did have that in mind when i wrote this story. my harry is not super.but hehas a growing command of death and that

makes him unique. My Voldie is more powerful though! if there is a super person in my story, it's voldie. He'll become a God.

Phoenix2500: he won't be fighting DE anytime soon. he has a demon to kill

bandgsecurtiyaw: thanks!

Junky: lol - i live in spain. i'd be hard to prove that i murdered you. Silvia's ok now. she didn't age, she only some of her life, like when you are extremely sick.

Silvia will get close to him though, eventually, but soon Harry will be leaving Hogwarts for a while. I'm not saying why though.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: **

**Accursed Party and Damned Ball**

When the term finally ended, Harry wasn't surprised to find that he was the only person in the sixth year going to the party alone. Who would want to ask him anyway? He wasn't the Triwizard Champion this year. He wasn't even an emotionally unbalanced twit desperate for attention, as Rita Skeeter had painted him once before. The newspapers didn't mention him once since the "This is for you, Potter" attacks, they didn't in fact mention anyone namely, either because the biggest cult personnel at the moment was Voldemort, or because the ministry didn't want a public hero. In any case, Harry was almost forgotten. With long hair, people couldn't even see his scar anymore. He was but a gloomy teenager no one dared to touch, a guy with no life as Hermione and Hagrid puts it. Even Myrtle didn't find him interesting.

"Harry, why don't you ever do the boy stuff in the bathrooms?" she asked sulkily when Harry came study the structure of the Chamber of Secret's entrance. He greeted her unceremoniously with a nod, not even glancing at her.

"What boy stuff?" Harry answered distractedly, and bent over to study the sinks.

"Well – you know –" Myrtle wasn't prepared for this answer. Her hopes of embarrassing Harry fractured and her plan to pry into his private life backfired. She made a gesture with one hand in front of her transparent crotch, giggling, but when Harry didn't even turn to look at her, she gave a frustrated screech and threw herself into the toilet, her wails muffled by splashes of water.

Harry ignored her and straightened up, looking into the mirror. He was surprised to see several strands of white hair near his forehead and pulled them off frowning. He had to admit that he looked awful: Messy hair shading his eyes and pale, dry lips. Some boys in Gryffindor sixth year had began to develop a beard now, but he still only had that screen of thin hair casting shadow across his jaw. His glanced at this upper body in the mirror, which was equally unattractive. His robes hang loosely on his shoulders, and although he had squared up after doing some Shadow Boxing training, he certainly didn't have the rippling muscles Ron had. For once, Ron attracted more attention than Harry does. Girls' eyes often wander to Ron's angular face in the corridors, making Hermione smile proudly. Ron also had the habit of wearing bright colors, which attracted attention. He seemed to be Harry's opposite, who only dressed in gloom, merged with the shadows.

He decided to go to the party in the end, mainly because of the dueling demonstration. Silvia mentioned it in her last class of the term, more like issuing a challenge.

"- It's going to be a perfect occasion to settle some old scores, if you have – er- some misunderstanding with certain people in the school," she had said, smiling evilly. "I've also decided to challenge a few people into a duel for performance purpose, and it would be _very_ much worth watching!"

She looked at Harry suggestively when she said this and Harry gave her a small nod of acceptance. Their last duel ended with a draw. He himself was quite eager to test a few new spells he'd learnt since then. Silvia would the perfect spell tester. It would be nothing fatal and illegal of course. He would have to be careful with what kind of spells he was going to use, as Dumbledore would be watching.

Harry also made plans of action to be carried out after Christmas. Rather than sit tight and wait for Voldemort to get him, he would go out and meet the Death Eaters head on. His DA was ready, Hogwart's was ready, Death Eaters were ready, and most importantly, Harry was ready. There was nothing holding him back now. He was prepared to use the ultimate measure against anyone who stood in the way between him and Voldemort. He planned his steps carefully. First he wanted to ambush Lucius Malfoy, who was a prominent member of the inner circle. Like Voldemort, he would use the tactic of fear and surprise. His moves would be unpredictable, and moreover, nobody knew really how powerful he really was. The attack on Malfoy manor would be a test of strength, as he needed to know how capable a top Death Eater really was.

But first, he had one problem that kept nudging the pit of his stomach – the Bloody Christmas Party. It wasn't a prospect of going to the party that bothered him, it was the ominous buzz in his ear. He was almost sure that something was going to happen, but at the same time he didn't trust himself. He suspected this to be the paranoia he had inherited from Mad Eye Moody, who came to patrol the school grounds often and seemed very keen in lecturing him on his favorite topic: CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

The student's behavior didn't lighten Harry's mood in the slightest. He sulked around the school, untainted by the excitement around him. It seemed to him that the entire school was sorted into pairs. _Why do people have to hold hands?_" he thought to himself bitterly, seething in something that he hoped was not jealousy as Ginny and Colin passed, swinging their linked hands and grinning to each other. Harry suspected that their relationship had reached a higher level, because Ginny's face that morning had a particular glow to it and she kept sharing silly looks with her boyfriend. Harry wasn't sure though, he never had the experience, but whenever he thought about it, his stomach would churn up in a mixture of disgust, disappointment, jealousy and desire. Right at this moment, neither of Ginny or Colin seemed to notice the figure hidden in the shadow, wearing a sardonic smile and shaking his head sadly. Ginny however, had a curious but creepy sensation that someone or something was watching her, she turned, but nothing was there. The figure was gone.

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its ground. The snow also had a sickening quality to it – slightly muddy with a seaside smell. Students rarely went out of the castle, only Aurors and Harry Potter roamed around the grounds. Harry ventured frequently to the frozen lakeside, wondering how the Giant Squid survived in winters. He liked the silence. There was nothing alive: the lake was simply dead, a vast area of blankness. During the last week before Christmas, Harry would come out in the night and camp out near the lake, among the frozen skeletons of the trees.

When he went back to the Castle, however, he had to face the boisterousness all over again.

"Come _on_ Harry, you're the only person without a partner, you'll look really stupid. I'm sure if you would just ask a younger – " Harry raised a hand authoritatively and Hermione fell silent. They had been having this conversation often since Harry transpired to be the only partner-free boy of the year. Both Ron and Hermione insisted that Harry needed a girlfriend.

"Yeah Harry, I'm sure you think about sex as much as I do, I just don't know how you cope with it. Still, you're at least free to go around checking out gir – ouch!" Hermione had just swatted Ron on the arm, making him wince and jump.

Harry yawned, visibly bored of the conversation.

"Oh really? How do _you_ cope then? By having sex with Hermione every night? Is that all relationships are for? Sex?" Harry retorted irritably. Some girls caught his words and giggled as they all made their way to the Great Hall.

"You're joking Potter?" said Malfoy, behind them. Harry rolled his eyes, but Ron tensed up. "Some one actually wants to shag this Mudblood? Oops, my mistake, of course Weasley wouldn't mind, would he? I suppose this is the best you can get. So tell me, Weasel King, how's the Mudblood in bed?"

Ron whipped around and slammed Malfoy against the nearest wall. Crab and Goyle reacted dumbly, taking a menacing step towards Ron. They looked reassuringly at each other to make sure Ron was outnumbered. Harry suddenly flicked a hand at them lazily, freezing them on the spot.

Ron was about to choke Malfoy to death when a hand grabbed him on the arm. The grip was surprisingly powerful and Ron felt his hand involuntarily being removed. What surprised him even more was that the hand belonged to Harry Potter.

Harry nudged Ron gently aside and took a step to Malfoy, who winced and looked as if he was trying to squeeze himself into a crack on the walls.

"Malfoy…" Harry whispered coldly into his ear. "Six years and you still haven't got any better with your insults. To me you are somewhere between a slug and that white stuff, so keep your sorru little ass away from my friends. Next time you step out of line, I'll kill not just you, but your mother, your father, your housemaid, your dog, your owl, anything alive in your house. And nothing can stop me. Tell that to your sniveling daddy for me."

Harry backed off from a very pale looking Draco Malfoy. A large bead of sweat was trickling down the blond boy's chin and his face was screwed up in fear. Harry suddenly laughed softly. He patted Malfoy's head, who seemed to shrink away.

"Be good now," Harry whispered and resumed his way to the Great Hall.

BANG!

Several people screamed, Hermione being the loudest of them. Harry felt a strong tingle from his personal shield and knew that Malfoy threw something at him, something powerful. The spell fixed on Harry's shield and drilled it repeatedly. Harry suspected it to be a Percussive Curse, a very powerful spell used in dueling that often had a fatal effect because it could blast the opponent away and damage his internal organs. But in any case, Malfoy's spell didn't get anywhere strong enough to move Harry one inch off the floor, let along causing any damage. Ron and Hermione plunged their hands into their robes, but a dozen Slytherins stepped up to stand behind Malfoy, smirking.

Harry let the spell remain there, enjoying the tickling sensation his shield created. After half a minute he felt the spell weaken – Malfoy was getting tired. Lazily, he turned around.

"Draco, I'm so disappointed. You're a Death Eater to-be, you can do better than that!" he taunted. In a flash Malfoy's wand was blasted off his hand and the spell stopped. Harry's shield remained blue for a moment until it finally cooled down.

The non-Slytherins applauded. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Dumbledore stopped to watch him, Silvia at his heel. Neither said anything.

"Don't think you're such a man, Potter, you won't live past Christmas, mark my words," Malfoy panted, his face white with fury so that he looked like a giant piece of chalk in green wrapping. "One day soon, I'll look down at your rotting corpse and smile."

Nobody was laughing now. Silvia was glaring at Malfoy, half in anger, half in pity as if she knew what was coming next. Dumbledore's eyes were fixed on Harry, who didn't flinch at the threat.

"Really?" Harry's voice dropped to a chill whisper, one dark eyebrow lifted. The surrounding crowed shivered involuntarily as ripples of death-like coldness burst out from his body in concentric circles. As if in slow motion, Harry reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. Clipping a tip between fingers, he flicked it upwards and twirled it into a holding position. "What if I kill you right now? What is there to stop me? I could curse you so that you drop dead three days later, or do you prefer three weeks? Watch out Draco, don't push me too much."

The crowd watched in morbid fascination. Harry turned, ignoring everyone. The entire corridor was filled up now, and they split to give Harry passage to the Great Hall.

"I could kill you so easily, Malfoy, that it's not even funny anymore."

The threat was whispered, but the voice echoed in the corridor for several seconds before dying away. Most people looked impressed rather than scared, but only the DA members and the two professors knew that Harry was really capable of doing what he said. Ron picked up Malfoy's wand and handed it to the blond boy with a pitying expression.

"You pissed the wrong person, rich boy," he said before taking Hermione's hand and following Harry.

Gradually, the corridor cleared. Malfoy and his cronies were too intimidated to go to the Great Hall. They turned towards the direction of the dungeons, swearing in low voices.

"What does this mean, Professor?" Silvia asked as she watched the crowd of students dissipate, still murmuring excitedly.

Albus Dumbledore looked slightly relieved.

"Well, it seems that I was wrong with Harry, he has quite an amount of self-control after all," he said with a small smile, some of the twinkles reappearing in his penetrating blue eyes. "Did you feel the ripple of power from the boy when Malfoy made his threat? When I am in a similarly provoked situation, I find it difficult to control myself. At that moment he could have killed Mister Malfoy and I wouldn't have been able stopped him, he might even kill me too. Our intervention was unnecessary in the end. I watched his eyes – he had almost complete control over his emotions – switching to cold indifference at exploding point."

Silvia looked as if she had no clue what the headmaster was saying, but she didn't interrupt. She let her gaze follow the corridor to her godson, who paced slowly but confidently towards his seat. Some DA members followed him, equally silent. She shook her head.

"Have you noticed, Albus, that Harry has made himself an army?" she commented half in disbelief, half in wonder.

Dumbledore chuckled slightly as he started towards the staff table.

"No, that's not an army, and the students are not soldiers. They won't live and die for him. The trust between them are not strong enough yet," he responded quietly, watching Silvia out of the corner of his eyes. "You see, their loyalty to Harry is bound by their respect of his power alone. In a case of crisis, few would stand with him – "

The headmaster settled on his customary chair behind the staff table, swirling his eyes in Harry's direction. Silvia took her seat next to him.

"- but let's hope that we never have to reach a stage when we have to depend on children. Our task is to defend them, not rely on them."

Silvia was silent for a moment. She stared at a plate of chick leg in front of her.

"Do you realize, Albus, that Harry too, is a child. According to the prophecy, our fate is tied with that of a teenage kid. Why does it have to be him?"

Dumbledore munched his roast potatoes silently. He swallowed and turned towards Silvia.

"Yes, but Harry is not an ordinary child. As for the prophecy, well, if Harry escapes to the Muggle world and forget his past, do you think Voldemort will be able to find him? No. Harry chose to take the burden. I believe he knows perfectly well what the consequence would be if he fails. His way to cope may be a little extreme, but it's the only way to give him power. But even then, I fear it's still not enough to challenge Tom."

Silvia still hasn't touched her food. She licked her dry, supple lips and stared at Harry from afar intently.

"Why? Have you no idea what Harry can do? I suspect he could kill me if he tries hard enough," she argued back, not moving her eyes. "And you know my – condition …"

Dumbledore took a draught from his goblet. A drop of pumpkin juice tickled down his long beard.

"Yes, but you can't compare yourself with Voldemort. What you did was child play compared to him. He's almost immortal. He paid a terrible price, yes, but he is, and he probably will be the most powerful wizard alive. Unless Harry receives some external source of magic, like if I and you pass our powers to him, he could never match Voldemort through natural means."

Silvia looked thoughtful. Harry had finished eating. He turned and gave Silvia a small wave to show that he knew he was being watched and then disappeared up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower. Ron and Hermione followed him, linking hands. Silvia was also curious to notice that Ginny's gaze followed her godson the moment he left the table, and it seemed that her boyfriend noticed this too.

"What about – you know – the demon?" she turned to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked alarmed. He surveyed Silvia sharply. "What about it? Yes, you told me that the demon would offer its power if a mortal manages to kill it, but it's too risky. If Harry tries this, he would die like the thousands who tried before him."

The Great Hall was filled with a buzz of activity as groups of people stood up and gathered their bags. Silvia was glad (for her godson's behalf) to note that the Creevey boy stalked away furiously, leaving a red-faced Ginny behind.

"Yes," she said, "but we can't neglect the fact that Harry has an amazing ability to channel magic. Haven't you noticed that he rarely uses his wands? Also, the spells he uses all create immense strains on a normal person's body, like the BloodShield, but he didn't seem affected at all. I would be dead several times over by now if I were him. Maybe it is worth the risk to capture the Demon and let him try?"

Dumbledore glanced towards the spot Harry was sitting a moment ago over his half-moon lens. He pondered the matter for a while before answering back.

"It's a risk, an unnecessary risk. If Harry continues to improve at this pace for another year, then with my assistance and yours, he may be able to kill Voldemort."

Silvia looked unconvinced. "Yes, but Voldemort is getting stronger every day," she retorted. "We may not have another year."

Dumbledore sighed, looking old again. "I know, we would just have to do our best, but I'm not worried about us not having another year."

He left the sentence hanging. Silvia was slightly impatient, but she tried not to show it.

"What _are_ you worried about?"

Dumbledore stood up and picked up the purple cloak hanging on the back of his chair. The hall was almost empty now. He sighed again.

"The way Harry is pushing himself," he said sadly. "He may not last for another year."

Moonlight flooded the garden, not exactly in a romantic way. The moon was big and bright, too big and too bright to be natural, nor should moonlight pour out that way, like fountain. Harry looked like a human-shaped shadow bathing in that over-bright flashlight, scratching his head dumbly. He watched a sea of dancing couples below him, swaying mechanically with the music, looking like a group of dancing dummies.

_What the bloody hell am I doing here?_ he wondered out aloud, confused. A moment ago he was in bed, tucked warmly under the silk covers, and now he was attending some sort of party. He didn't feel powerful and in control like he usually did. In fact, he felt exposed, vulnerable like a first year kid. He felt a bit like crying.

As if someone had heard him thinking, a person suddenly appeared in front of him, wearing shining ropes of silver, reflecting moonlight that almost blinding him. Strangely, the man looked like Lord Voldemort, with the crimson eyes and slit like nose and lipless mouth, except that Voldemort would never smell like perfume.

"Stop, you're not allowed to enter," Voldemort said in a high-pitched voice. The voice also had a Dumbledore-like quality to it – persuasive and patronizing.

The music, whatever it was, was drilling into Harry's skull, making his eyes water and his ears rang.

"Why not?" he heard himself asking rebelliously. Self-consciously, he glanced at his own clothing and found that he was dressed in rags.

"Because you are not allowed to have happiness unless you kill me," the-man-who-looked-like-Voldemort answered. "These people below don't have a cursed destiny like you do."

Harry was about to argue back, but suddenly a new voice interrupted.

"No, he's here at my request. He's my partner to the ball."

It was a girl slender as candle flame, clothed in something like mist, with an elusive, fleeting beauty. The dress was almost transparent – almost. She looked soft and sensuous and intangible, but there was also certain wildness in her chocolate brown eyes that burned like fire. Harry stared at her, mesmerized.

"Prove it," the guard responded coldly. "Prove that he's your partner."

The girl glanced at the guard reproachfully and turned to Harry, who stood petrified, holding his breath. Before he knew what was happening, the girl stepped up and kissed him. Harry was too terrified to move. He kept his head stationary, lips closed, eyes squeezed shut. He felt his blood within him burning, fleshes and bones melting, air smothering him. Her hands glided past his crotch, applying only the faintest pressure. Finally, he reached out a hand and cupped her bottom tentatively. The girl responded instantly. She opened her mouth and he felt a warm tongue flicked across his lips, drawing out his soul -

- and he soul was leaving him. The mouth was no longer warm against his face. The scent was one of death and decay. Harry opened his eyes and saw a hooded face, a hole where the mouth should be. He heard a rasping noise and felt another stir within his soul.

He pushed away desperately, fumbling for his wand. He felt the shadows enclosing him, a soft mummer within his head, like a feminine voice moaning in ecstasy and pain. All around him the darkness swirled, substantial yet shapeless. He struggled, fighting nothing but empty space. Finally, he touched something, something silky. He wrestled with it, and the silky material twisted around his neck, choking him, bringing him closer to death every second.

Harry woke up with a muffled scream. He opened his eyes to find that his bedcover was tangled around his neck. Throwing it aside furiously, Harry jumped out of his bed. As soon as he feet touched the floor, light flooded the room.

He mirror was showing somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. It was too dark to make out anything other than trees, masses of trees. He's thought wandered to the dream a few minutes ago and he smiled at the memory. He wasn't even sure that the girl had a face, but the flaming cascade of hair still burned in his mind.

"If only she dreams what I dream…" Harry whispered wistfully. He looked at his hands longingly, drinking the memory of the way she felt.

Harry gave a deep sigh and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. It was only four in the morning. With a startled realization he remembered that it's Christmas day, and the Party will be held this night.

There was no point in sleeping again. Not that he was sleepy anyway. Since it was Christmas, he decided to have a morning off from training and check out his presents instead. Still wearing pajamas, he touched the Amulet Portkey and reappeared in the Gryffindor common room soundlessly.

Harry closed his eyes. Even when lit only by a dying fire, the common room still had certain warmth to it that Harry's secret room never had. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of life filling his lungs although it never touched his heart. Almost immediately, he realized that the air had a faint smell of lily in it – he wasn't alone. His eyes shot open and scanned to room. Ginny was lying in front of the fireplace on a nest of cushions. She still wore her daily cloth, but the top four buttons of her top were open, revealing a naked shoulder, colored slightly orange in dim firelight. She wasn't alone either – Colin was lying next to her, his hand holding hers, his mouth precariously cloth to Ginny's exposed neck. Harry narrowed his eyes and moved his gaze downwards. Much to his relief Colin still had his pants on. He then resumed to study Ginny's sleeping face. She looked beautiful – the tips of her long eyelashes were coated with firelight, the profile of her face glowing slightly. Harry felt his stomach clench. He shrugged inwardly and made his way to the boy's dormitory, making as little noise as he could.

"Harry!" a soft, feminine voice called after him.

Oops.

Harry turned wearily but didn't climb down the stairs. He adjusted his sad expression and smiled at her.

"I see you've slept well," he commented dryly, not exactly looking into her eyes. She still didn't have the grace to button up her top. "But I guess I should be quiet incase your boyfriend wakes up."

Ginny frowned at him.

"Don't worry, he sleeps like dead," she shrugged, but suddenly swallowed when she realized the implication behind her words.

Harry raised an eyebrow. If the light had been any brighter, he could have seen Ginny blush, which was always a nice view.

"Oh yeah? And why would you know that?" he asked lazily.

"You're not going to tell Ron about this, are you?" her voice suddenly became hostile. Harry wanted to tell her "yes", but decided against it.

"No," he studied her face for a moment, putting aside his mask of irony. "No I won't. I'm happy for you," he added with a sad smile.

Ginny swallowed again, struggling as if she wanted to say something. Her eyes trailed to Colin's face, her beautiful face marred by a slight frown.

When Ginny turned her face again towards the stairs, Harry was gone. In his place was several golden letters floating in the air: "Merry Christmas."

The Sixth Year boys' dorm was still asleep when Harry entered, but instead of four people, Harry sensed seven in the room, and his senses were never wrong. He tiptoed to Ron's bed hesitantly, tempted to open a fraction the bed hanging –

- and dropped his jaw in surprise. The hanging was already slightly open. Ron wasn't alone in his bed: Hermione was with him. What's more, they both looked fully naked. Harry swallowed and tore his eyes off Hermione's upper body and turned to the other three closed hangings, two of them undoubtedly contained Lavender and Parvati. With as little noise as possible, Harry climbed onto his bed and gathered the pile of presents. Wrapping them all in the bedcover, Harry portkeyed himself back to the secret chamber, where he felt much less like an intruder.

Presents seemed trivial now, considering the fact that Voldemort was after his life, but Harry (who was feeling particularly bitter right now) wasn't going to miss the fun of Christmas, since this was very likely the last one he'd experience before he was killed. The Dursleys seemed to have reached a new level of preparing presents: noting at all. His other presents were much more satisfactory. Silvia was as practical as ever and had given him a wand holster, which became invisible when Harry strapped it on his arm. According to the note attached, Silvia had added a new function to it: it was able to summon the wand automatically if he dropped it by accident or forgot it somewhere. Ron and Hermione together had given him a photo album, of all the photos of the trio together. Harry suspected that they were trying to remind him of their friendship, but he felt warm looking at the photos anyway. Fred and George (Harry felt a pang of guilt) sent him the newest model of their "Spy-der", which was as big as his thumb nail and had the ability to see through walls. Harry promised himself that he would remember to use it and write a report for Fred and George. The Order gave him another bunch of books on Defense against the Dark Arts. Moody even gave him his old Auror training guide. There was of course Mrs. Weasley's usual jumper (she had taken a new approach: it was black and fireproof); there was also Hagrid's vast box of sweets, everything from Chocolate Frogs to Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans.

Finally there was one package left. Harry opened the wrappings carefully and took out a battered and mournful looking black box. Frowning, he opened the box and froze on the spot instantly.

It was a miniature of a black phoenix, as sad and beautiful as the one sleeping right now somewhere in his soul. The bird gave a few chirping and vanished in a flash of black flame, reappearing on his shoulders. Then the miniature bird began to sing. There was chill to the song, like spring water of late autumn, tinged with winter's chill. There was also sadness to it, like something which had witnessed too much suffering to feel joy again. Harry felt a lump stuck in his throat while his stomach began to churn with a multitude of emotions – familiarity and surprise.

There was a note attached to the box. He picked it up and scanned it.

_Harry,_

_I guess I should explain myself. Hagrid told me that you suddenly showed immense interest in black phoenixes. _

_I saw this miniature in a shop (don't tell anyone) in Knockturn Ally. If you're wondering, I went there because I was curious. Anyway, the guy told me that this is exactly what a black phoenix sounds like, so I thought you might want it. I got it by Owl post. I hope you like it._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

"Like it" wasn't the right word. He loved it. Letting the phoenix perch on his bedside table, Harry got up and dressed. The rest of the presents were forgotten. Only one thing filled his mind, something he had just read.

_Love, Ginny._

He met up with Ron and Hermione in the common room and they went down to breakfast together. The couple showed no sigh that they've slept each other, but Lavender and Parvati were giggling and blushing next to them. They spent the morning in the Common room, which was filled with people, and returned to the Great Hall later for lunch. Nobody ate much, as later there was going to be a feast.

A small drizzle had began to fall during the morning, melting the snow on the grounds. The drizzle gradually developed into a full-scale storm and wind battered against the castle walls. People had become so used to the strange weather that no one paid any attention, but Harry was becoming increasingly agitated. The tingle on his Shield had become so annoying that he had to remove his protections. It made him more vulnerable, but more conformable. He had no doubts that this was a magical storm, but there was no one to tell. Most teachers have retreated into Dumbledore's study for a meeting.

By seven o'clock, the other boys returned to the dorm to change. Most of the girls had already disappeared and the Gryffindor common room felt strangely empty. There was a strong air of anticipation despite the emptiness, and the excitement seemed likely to burst out of doors any moment. Harry didn't bother to change. He was wearing his new jumper and a pair of black jeans. He then transformed his ropes into some form of hooded clock so that he resembled a Dementor, except that even Dementors didn't seem to radiate the aura of power and confidence like he did. Hiding in shadows, Harry was almost impossible to see. Thirty minutes later, the room began to fill up again.

Harry felt very self-conscious, being the only person wearing mournful black in a sea of bright colors. Some girls' dress robes wear showing quite a lot skin, Harry was interested to note. Ginny had on a silver dress, cut in a knockout style. Her flame-coloured hair cascaded untamed down her elegant neck so that from afar she resembled a slender candle. Harry scrutinized her from his corner, smiling softly. Colin was wearing a lady-killing smile as he traveled down the stairs, drinking her in with his eyes. From the hungry way he was gazing her, Harry guessed that something was going to happen tonight.

Hermione also looked smashing. Her hair was no longer bushy, but waving softly back from her face. Her face had a dewing glow to it and she was smiling charmingly. She had a misty blue dress robe on that was similar to the one she wore in her fourth year. She looked happy, happier than she had been last time when she attended the ball with Victor Krum. Her hands were locked with Ron's, who stared her so intently that he seemed to have missed all the stairs. Harry felt a surge of warmth when he saw them. It was good to see his friends so happy even though he experienced none of it.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Colin left the common room for the Great Hall, and Harry followed them soundlessly. No one had even glanced at him – so far so good. The Great Hall was decorated as lavishly as it had been during the Triwizard Tournament, with ice status and winter fairies. The music started as soon as the first couple arrived, and soon the noise of excitement covered the thundering of the raging storm outside. The centre of the Hall had been raised as a platform. Small, lantern-lit tables scattered around it. The Hall was lit by soft candlelight, romantic and sweet. When everyone was seated, Professor Dumbledore, who was wearing a rich, purple dress robe, announced that after dinner the dueling competition would be held, and then the platform would be cleared for dancing.

Harry chose a dimly lit corner, away yet not separate from the masses of dining tables. He held a shot of Firewhiskey (Dumbledore "outrageous" allowed sixth years and above to drink. All the bottles where charmed to sting younger students) in his hands and started gulping down its contents, eyes scanning the Hall. He knew his friends would like him to sit with them, but he wasn't going to spoil their mood with his paranoia – his stomach was churning up and done in something like warning. (As well as burning with the alcohol.) Anyhow, he didn't want to watch Ginny flirting with Colin all night.

Everyone was enjoying the food. Pork chops and hot stews appeared every instant when someone read out from a small menu. Hundreds of knifes clashed with hundreds of forks and people wolfed down bread, meat or vegetables with what seemed to be insatiable hunger. Harry felt a wave of disgust. None of this seemed real. All he could sense was some strange power, very close to the school, lurking and waiting for its chance. He glanced at the staff table. Silvia wasn't eating much and she looked equally uncomfortable. Dumbledore listening to something she was saying, looking grave. Funny that he should look so serious in such a festival atmosphere.

"Why aren't you at the feast, Potter?" came a rugged voice behind him. He didn't need to turn to know that it was Moody, on his guard duty.

"Not feeling well," Harry shrugged, not turning. Suddenly Moody guffawed.

"Ha! I finally got you! I got my wand pointing at your back!" the ex-Auror yelled triumphantly.

Harry still didn't turn. His eyes were fixed upon Ginny's laughing face, his heart reaching out for hers and falling short. All he wanted to do was to enjoy the night with her, but he knew it was impossible.

"Look at my right hand," Harry muttered lazily. Moody shifted his normal eye down at Harry's hand, which was slumping on his side as he leant against a wall. Between the fingers was a wand, the tip glowing, undoubtedly charged by some spell.

"How did you do this?" Moody asked in resignation, pocketing his wand. "Forty years of Auror experience and I'm not half as good as you are."

Harry laughed softly. "Nah. You've got the experience; I've got the power. As I said before, I sensed your magical field. You were too tense."

Moody didn't say another word. He followed Harry's gaze directly to the table occupied by Ginny and the others. His normal eyes then caught the look of longing on Harry's face.

"You like her, don't you?" he asked gently after a while.

Harry sighed. Ginny was feeding Colin. She held something between her fingers and placed it into his mouth. Colin bit her fingers and refused to let go. Harry watched Ginny giggling madly, and Ron making faces of disgust.

"I do."

"Then do something about it," the ex-Auror said, as direct and blunt as ever.

Harry smiled softly. Moody was made everything sounding so simple.

"Sometimes, in order to survive, you have to make sacrifices," he whispered tiredly. "I've got a doomed destiny to fulfill, and it's unlikely that I end up alive."

Moody didn't say anything. Studying the boy's face for several more seconds, he replaced his invisibility cloak and submerged once more into the crowd.

Gradually, the tables were emptied. Plates of food were replaced by bowls of fruit, drinks and deserts. The volume of the mummers turned up as Dumbledore paced onto the platform, his beard twitching in excitement. Harry finished his fifth bottle of some kind of pale yellow liquor and wiped his mouth dry with the cuffs of his sleeve. Tearing his eyes from Ginny, he looked at the staff table. Silvia was looking pointedly at him from the other side of the room, wearing a challenging smile.

"Hem. The duels will begin in a minute. The first pair to come up will be Silvia and whoever challenged her, or answered her challenge, rather," Dumbledore fought down a smile, swallowed and looked in Harry's direction. "After that, all those that signed up could come up. Before you start, however, I would like to say something about the rules."

His eyes were fixed on Harry's, his face serious. Harry wasn't listening to what the headmaster was saying. The world seemed to sway about him and he was feeling agitated, even slightly hyperactive.

"This is an exhibition duel. There is nothing serious about it and the result means nothing. You are not allowed to use anything that may have a fatal effect, other than that, well –" the twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes. "- show everything you've got up your sleeves."

He walked back to the staff table and whispered something to Silvia, who nodded. She then stepped onto the platform and smiled charmingly at the school. Like Harry, she didn't bother dressing up. She wore a simple elegant black robe that could have been more suitable for a funeral.

It took Harry a few seconds to realize that she was gesturing him to come up. When he did so, he tripped and lay sprawled across the edge of the platform. Jeers emitted from the crowd, and Silvia was frowning. Harry staggered towards the other edge and stood swaying, trying to orient his directions. A Spectator's shield was set up around the edge of the platform that stung when Harry touched it. He glared through it narrow-eyed. Behind the shield Ginny was cuddled in Colin's arm and his mouth was too close to her neck for his liking.

"- two, three, begin –" this was the last thing he heard: Dumbledore announcing the start of the duel. The next thing he knew was that a disarming charm hit him straight on his chest and bounced him onto the shield and back.

Harry lay once more sprawled onto the floor. He felt dizzy. The drink, whatever it was, had too much alcohol in it. All the noise seemed amplified and distorted, and the crowd laughed mercilessly.

"Get off Potter, my granny's better than you!" this wasn't from the Slytherin quarter of the Hall.

"Get up Harry!" Silvia's voice came hovering about him, the anger and disappointment in it was evident. Harry scrabbled away and climbed up only to find that he was facing the wrong direction.

Another explosion of laughter erupted from the Hall. Harry glanced at the staff table to find Dumbledore chuckling merrily. What pained him even more was that Ginny was laughing as well, rocking back and forth in Colin's arms. They found him funny, the only conscious part of his brain realized. Suddenly, the drunken feeling was gone. Harry felt all the bitterness that had been building up since McGonagall announced the ball bubbling up. Worse, his pride had been fractured. He had been humiliated - whether out of good intention or no, nobody laughed at Harry Potter …

Silvia no longer saw the situation as funny. Her disappointment towards her godson was gone. All the emotions were replaced by one thing – fear. She realized that Harry had been pushed to the limit. He was at another explosion point and he also had a little too much to drink so his level of self-control was at its minimum. The combination of the two was fatal, but the crowd didn't know it. Their laugher only made the situation worse. Bracing herself, she concentrated all her power and raised the strongest shield possible around her and to strengthen the Spectator Shield. The boy had better not do anything rash …

The spell was one Silvia didn't recognize. She wasn't even sure that it was a spell, as the highest form of the Mind Magic meant being able to give out blasts of power without incantations or wand. Ripples of power were pouring out of Harry as he turned. The flow of power increased in intensity and began to affect Dumbledore's Spectator's shield. Parts of it began to melt like a dome of snow. Silvia felt the strain on her magic, feeling it being sucked out of her. She wasn't sure how long she could withstand it…

Suddenly the power was gone. The atmosphere cooled down once more and she felt the pressure on her Shield being lifted. Harry lift up his wand for the first time during that ten minutes and mutter "Stupefy", slowly, softly, and precisely. The red jet of light tore through Silvia's Shield, flew past her right shoulder and impacted with Dumbledore's Spectator Shield. The stunner continued its way as if unhindered and smashed into the wall, and crack – parts of the wall shattered.

The Stormy ceiling above flickered, the Great Hall was quiet.

Silvia stood motionless. Her strongest Shield gave away to a simple stunner as if it was paper. Several strands of her hair drifted in front of her face and landed somewhere on the floor, soft as snow. It was then she realized the clothes on her right shoulder were burnt, although the flesh was undamaged. Suddenly a shadow swept across her and her wand was plucked away from her fingers.

Harry stood facing her, his face neither triumphant nor angry. He gave her a nod and whispered barely audible, "I think I won."

After several stunned seconds, Silvia smiled at him, knowing fully well that he was still holding back. She clapped, and the rest of the school followed suit. To her surprise, Harry's face still didn't change. He paced off the platform silently to his armchair concealed in the corner near the stairs. Impressed looks trailed after him, but Harry didn't turn.

The rest of the exhibition soon passed, as of all the other duelers were embarrassed with their weak stunners and body bind charms. Harry didn't watch any of it: he fell a sleep and dreamed once more of that shadow of despair…

"- Harry, Harry!" someone was calling him. He opened his eyes and saw Ginny in front of him, looking like some angel from a distant dream. He blushed and looked away. His head was still spinning – was he asleep? Everything seemed disoriented and fast.

"What? How long have I slept?" for the first time, he realized that most of the school was scattered across the widened and lowered platform, dancing. The Weird Sisters were situated in the center above everyone else. From the look of it, he couldn't have slept long.

"Only two hours. You drank too much," her eyes shifted to the collection of different bottles lying in a heap on the table. "Good duel by the way, congratulations."

Harry laughed softly, looking everywhere but her. He noted that Colin was dancing with some other girl and his hands were becoming over familiar.

"There's nothing good about it. I could have killed her," he shrugged, reaching for a new bottle of butterbeer. The yellow stuff was too strong, he would stick to butterbeer now.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "How many times have you been to the loo?"

Harry snickered. "Only a dozen. Why are you here?" He tried to keep the hostility and jealousy out of his voice.

"I thought it would be obvious – ask you for a dance of course," Ginny's eyebrows jumped another centimeter higher. She held out her hands and gave him a crooked smile.

Harry, after a second of internal debate and another fleeting glance at Colin, took them.

Then the music started, soft and sweet.

It wasn't like the dance they had during his birthday party. There was nothing romantic about it. Harry kept the least contact possible and fixed his eyes at the sea of dancing couples. Dumbledore was waltzing with Silvia and they were chatting animatedly. Neither seemed to take Harry's little outburst seriously, which could only be an improvement. He searched the crowd for Ron and Hermione, straining his neck in dismay. Now he regretted his decision of dancing, this was far too tense for his liking.

Harry risked a glance at Ginny to find her staring at him. Once their eyes locked on each other's, Harry sank into them as if compelled, and couldn't pull out again. Ginny took half a step closer to him and when he didn't move, she put her chin on his shoulder.

_No I will not be affected by this!_ Harry told himself heatedly, desperately, but he couldn't change the fact that his hands were trembling. He remembered the dream. _No, not the dream! Shut it, I won't fee… Arh, no…"_

It seemed that Ginny sensed his tension. She loosened her grip on his waist. Harry could sense the heat, could feel the course of life through his jumper.

"Why did you come without a partner Harry? Any girls would have wanted you," Ginny whispered. It was difficult to determine her tone.

He shrugged again, closing his eyes to enjoy the sweet smell of her hair, its softness and warmth.

He couldn't deny his feelings anymore…

"There was only one girl I wanted to ask, but I didn't dare."

"Why not?" her voice was muffled as she buried half of her face in his jumper.

"Because I'm confused about how I feel, and I'm ashamed. She's been there for me for the last four years, walked past me in the corridors, ate meals with me, helped me when I needed it, but I gave her nothing. Now when I finally noticed her, when I finally grew brave enough to love someone, it's too late. She belongs to someone else now. She's in love," the music seemed distant now, there was only his heartbeat and hers. There was an odd lump by his throat and his heart was skipping a mile per second. He was vaguely aware of Ginny lifting her head from his shoulder.

"Going out with someone doesn't mean love. May be she's just lonely. If she has waited for four years, maybe she's still waiting, maybe she's willing to wait all her life."

Harry opened his eyes. Emerald ones locked with chocolate brown ones.

"Really? How do you know?"

"Because I do."

Harry moved back just lightly, his neck and shoulders tingling with the loss of her warmth. Her eyes looked strange, with a slight gleam in it that portrayed desperation and hope. Slowly, he bent down so that his nose were just touching hers and stayed like that for what seemed to be an eternity. Her breath smelled of strawberry ice cream. Then she pressed forward.

Harry swallowed, he closed his eyes, remembering yet again his dream that morning. But suddenly, he felt someone's gaze on his neck.

"What?" Ginny's voice almost had tears in it as Harry pulled away.

"Someone is coming for me."

And someone did. Dumbledore, Silvia, McGonagall, Minister Fudge and Percy Weasley were standing by the stairs, looking in their direction.

"I need to go," Harry's hand trailed a path from Ginny's right hand to her left, brushing gentle across her chest. He silently cursed the headmaster and his godmother.

She nodded, her eyes burning with raw desire. Harry swallowed, remembering the way her exposed shoulders looked this morning. Harry forced a smile at her and then she was gone, swallowed up by the swaying crowd. With a final longing glance at the crowd, Harry turned to the murky shadows of the stairs.

Fudge looked strange.

He wasn't sure if the others realized it, but the minister's eyes had a faint glassy quality to it. He looked smug and oddly triumphant, but he also talked as if he wasn't there, as if he was half listening to some unheard voice giving him command.

Dumbledore looked grave, Fudge looked half asleep, Silvia looked crossed, but what surprised him most was Percy. From what Harry knew, Percy was a vain and superficial person. His speeches were pompous and his eyes always showed a hunger to prove himself. This Percy in front of him wasn't like this. He looked confident and cold. There was a glint in his eyes that Harry didn't like. But apparently Dumbledore didn't notice anything, so Harry decided to keep quiet. His brain was still saturated by what happened a few minutes ago.

They walked along the corridors towards the stairs that led to the Headmaster's study. Muffled music and laughter could still be heard from the Great Hall, but they all seemed unreal. The atmosphere here was a tense one, and people's faces were grim.

The Gargoyle guards jumped aside and the four spiraled up the wooden stairs that lead to the office door; Silvia stepped forward and opened the door for them. Dumbledore gave her a nod, but Fudge and Percy ignore her. When Harry passed, however, she gave him a look of warning.

After another awkward pause, Fudge spoke.

"I'm very sorry to disrupt this festival occasion, but there is something very serious to be discussed here, and it concerns you, Mr. Potter," Fudge said, bowing his head slightly.

_Wrong attitude, Fudge,_ Harry thought to himself. _you're supposed to hate me. _

"And what problem would that be, Minister?" Harry asked politely. He was becoming more and more uncomfortable under Percy's death glare. Dumbledore frowned at the Weasley son as well. He coughed. Percy for a moment looked started and rearranged his facial expression back to his typical one.

"I have been warned personally that the Dark Lord has made you a target. His Death Eaters are hunting you." Still the same detached voice with an underlying smugness to it.

"Oh, that's bad news," Harry commented dryly. Standing near the door, Silvia snickered. To Harry's amusement, Dumbledore was looking at Fudge with a frown of disapproval.

"Indeed," Fudge gave another little bow, collected as ever. "The ministry wishes to offer you a place to take refuge temporarily, outside Hogwarts. This will also avoid innocent students being harmed because of you."

Now Harry was truly confused. Something in the tone suggested that Fudge was making all these up as he went along, but Harry's mind was too clouded to work anything out. There was something about this visit that he didn't like, but he couldn't tell what it was. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that Fudge only said those things to keep them away from the Great Hall. Harry desperately tried to shut the image of Ginny's passionate face out of his head.

"Now, Minister, we appreciate this concern," Dumbledore broke in, his face serious. "But we've discussed this matter before, about Harry's situation and why I would prefer him to remain by my side."

Fudge stuttered. Harry could see that he was desperately thinking of what to say.

"I… I…" he suddenly glanced at Percy and then at Harry, his eyes lighting up. "Dumbledore, can we discuss this matter without Potter being present? He could wait outside."

Harry frowned and opened his mouth to object, but Fudge was already giving orders. "Go Weasley, go with him."

Dumbledore nodded at Harry and then fixed his eyes upon Percy, who gulped and shivered slightly as if nervous for something. The headmaster nodded at him as well.

_Since when did Dumbledore do that "nod of secrecy" stuff with Percy?_ Harry reflected comically as he left the office. The door closed behind him with a click. Now there was only he and Percy Weasley.

The corridor was silent. The thumping of music could still be heard but again it felt like he was a universe away from the noise and excitement. Slowly, Harry turned his attention to the Weasley son, who had been gazing at him intently for the last two minutes. He was nervous, Harry could tell. He was building courage for something, and any moment now, he would speak.

"Potter," said Percy. This wasn't what Harry expected. He expected another telling off about respect of authority, not something simple and cold like a blast of December wind.

"Potter," he repeated. "I want to show you something."

He slowly rolled up the sleeves of his left arm, and Harry gasped silently, involuntarily.

"Is it worth it? Percy? Why? Ambition?" Harry asked pointedly.

Percy laughed. A merciless, bloodthirsty one Harry didn't recognize.

"Me? Not me, Percy Weasley was the ambitious type, I never was. In any case, both of you would be dead by tomorrow," he whipped out his wand deftly and glared at Harry.

Harry shook his head tiredly. "I thought so. You're not Percy Weasley, I sensed that much. So, you master underestimated me. A newly recruited little bastard like you is no match for me," he drew out his wand. "I'll give you a chance. Tell me why you're here, work for Dumbledore from now on and I'll spare your life. Or we can duel, and I won't hold back."

The man laughed merrily again. Suddenly he fixed his wand upon Harry and shouted, "AVADA KEDAVRA". Harry tilted his head left and the spell passed his ear, missing by a hair's length. The Death Eater's eyes opened in surprise, and then Harry strained his want at his heart.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" The first time in months, Harry shouted out a spell with his wand

Harry watched the man's pupils widening in fear. He was vaguely aware that the office door banged open and Dumbledore was shouting "Noooo…"

The disarming charm, with maximum intensity, hit the Death Eater squarely on the chest. There was a sickening crack as the man's chest bones collapsed and his heart exploded. He was thrown off his feet in a graceful arc and soared back several metres, his head impaled on the wall with a heavy thud and another crack.

His neck was broken.

Slowly, the volume of the world returned. Harry was aware of the heavy breathings of the other people next to him. Silvia was staring at the body in disbelief, Fudge looked practically gloating, and Dumbledore was gazing at him sadly.

"Harry, why?" the headmaster asked simply, his eyes dull and his face old.

Harry shrugged. "It's not Percy, check the body and you'll know. He's got the Dark Mark."

Dumbledore continued to study his face. He then walked towards the body lying face down on the floor and flipped it over. Harry heard a sharp intake of breath from Silvia and then the rustling of cloth as Dumbledore lifted up the man's sleeve.

"Harry, this _is_ Percy Weasley," Dumbledore's voice of authority returned. "He could not possibly have the Dark Mark because he has been working for me for two whole years."

Fudge was quietly whispering to what seemed to be a crystal walkie-talkie as he made a quiet exit, but Harry was beyond caring now. He walked urgently towards the body and turned it over roughly.

Facing him, with hair burning like flame, was Percy Weasley. His eyes were opened unseeingly, echoing the last emotion he felt – surprise. Harry tore off the two sleeves of the man and found that there was nothing on the pale arms, nothing but slight freckles and a few scars.

Harry felt blood rushing into his head. He realized then that everything had gone horribly wrong. He had just killed Percy Weasley - Molly and Arthur Weasley's son, Ron's brother. And Ginny, he realized. He had just killed Ginny's brother. He felt despair bubbling up him – he had just killed an innocent man.

Dumbledore was saying something to Silvia, something about calling Molly and Arthur via the school fireplace while he would go down stairs to find the Weasley siblings. Harry followed him in a daze, leaving Percy's body behind. As the desperation subsided, however, his logic began to run again. The man admitted that he wasn't Percy Weasley, so either Percy was mad or Harry was. But then, what could explain the Dark Mark, which he so clearly saw. And what could explain the air of hostility from the imposter? Harry definitely felt something. There was a magical field around the man, so he was either concealed by spell or potion. And Harry's feelings were never wrong…

" – No, this man was not Percy Weasley, he - "

Dumbledore sprang around. For the first time that night, his weary face showed anger.

"Listen to me, Harry," the old man's voice tight and controlled, but the fury beneath it was audible. "I've talked to him for longer than two hours tonight, enough to make sure he was Percy alright. If you won't tell me why you did it, I won't push you," he surveyed Harry with a pained expression. "I can only hope that it wasn't a sudden thirst for blood."

Dumbledore turned around and resumed his way to the Great Wall. Harry sighed heavily, his conscience still clouded. He could see that he probably won't be able to convince anyone to trust him, at least it won't be easy.

The crowd was still dancing. With a stab of pain Harry remembered his dream this morning – a sea of dancing dummies. His eyes searched among the crowd and focused on one person, a person with flaming long hair. Ginny waved and sprinted towards him, wearing a shy smile. Her smile immediately disappeared when she saw Harry's face and Dumbledore's.

"What happened, Harry?" she asked nervously, sensing something wrong.

Harry didn't answer her. He felt slightly sick. Dumbledore muttered "Sonorous" and called over the crowd. He gave Harry another look.

"Everybody, the party has to be terminated for unfortunate reasons, everybody please return to your common rooms."

The announcement was met by groans of disappointment, but it seemed that even at the peak of their excitement no one dared to disobey the headmaster. Slowly, the crowd began to drift towards the stairs. Harry saw Professor Flitwick talking to the Weird Sisters and the rest of the staff heading in their direction, looking worried and confused…

Then everything was interrupted by a high pitched wail from the stairs.

"HARRY POTTER!" Harry winced. It was the moment he feared – Molly Weasley had found out about her son. "WHY? I LOVED YOU AS A SON, WHY – no … my baby…"

She broke down into a wail of tears, her hair wild. It seems that she simply jumped out of bed. Nobody bothered leaving now. All the eyes were fixed on Harry, some nervous, some fearful, some confused, some morbidly exited. Harry could see Ron struggling to make his way here, joined by Ginny.

"Mum? Mum? What happened?" Ron was calm, very much the big brother figure. Ginny was close to tears as she summoned her cloak from her chair and wrapped it around her mother.

Molly Weasley crumpled onto the ground with her two children in a heap. Her husband appeared seconds later in his work cloth and joined them. There was no dignity, no status, but the scene was so forlorn that not even Draco Malfoy dared to snicker. After a few agonizing minutes, Ginny asked again. "What happened, mum?"

Molly was still sobbing. It was Arthur Weasley that answered. "Your brother Percy is dead."

There was a stunned silence as Ron and Ginny struggled to understand what their father had said. Harry stood several meters away from the grieving family, feeling torn yet slightly defiant.

"Ho… how?" Ginny managed as tears began pouring out of her eyes.

Molly pointed a shaking finger at Harry, who closed his eyes sadly. "He – he killed him… " she spitted tearfully.

Ron was the first to recover from the shock. He stood up slowly, his expression gradually changing into one of pure hatred. Then he lunged at Harry.

"You – Fucking – Bastard!" Blows after blows landed on Harry's face. The ring he wore for tonight's ball cutting into Harry's flesh. The room was deathly quiet; smacking and cracking sounds were heard so clearly that everyone flinched with the landing of each blow. Harry stood, allowing himself to be washed by pain. He crumpled on the floor and Ron was kicking him repeatedly, relentlessly, producing more fury as he watched Harry's bloodied face.

"Fight back you fucking bastard, FIGHT BACK!" he shouted. "I'm going to fucking KILL YOU!"

Finally, Dumbledore made a gesture with his hand and ropes appeared in thin air, binding tightly around Ron. Harry panted heavily on the floor and struggled up. He spitted out some blood and did a quick healing charm on his broken nose. His vision was blurred by blood.

"Why? Why did you do it?" Ron detached himself from the floor, struggling with the ropes. Several meters away, Ginny and her parents were still sobbing forlornly.

Harry coughed. Ron's strength was unimaginable: it seems that several of Harry's ribs were broken too. He could have killed Ron easily in self-defense, but he was not going to admit to something he didn't do. As Harry's breathing recovered, his confidence and sense of power refilled him.

"No, it wasn't your brother I killed. I killed a Death Eater imposter. Whatever potion of spell he used, I don't know, but I know what I felt, what I saw."

Ron's fists twitched. "Why Harry? Even at this moment you still seek to pretend. I've heard enough stories about you this year, I know you enough to judge what kind of a person you are, what kind of a monster you have become," Ron said spitefully, struggling against the confinements. "Why? Is it because he called you unbalanced? Is it because he called you an attention-seeking jerk? I should have listened him and stayed away from you long ago."

Harry shook his head bitterly. "No, you don't under – "

It was then that the door to the great hall banged open.

Flanked by twelve Aurors, Fudge strode into the Great Hall, a smug smile placed on his fat face. He changed his attire too – lose robes used for dueling.

The silent Great Hall became, if it was possible, quieter.

"What is the meaning of this, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked impatiently. Angry with Harry as he was, it seemed that he wanted to keep the matter within Hogwarts. Cornelius glanced at Harry, a sneer plastered on his face, he then turned to the crowd

"By the order of the Ministry of Magic, i.e. myself," he said, ignoring Dumbledore. "Harry James Potter is hereby placed under arrest charged for the murder of Percy Weasley, Junior Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic. I myself am the witness for this murder, just over thirty minutes ago."

The crowd gasped. Fudge sneered jovially and fixed his glare on Harry. Harry suddenly realized where he had seen that glassy look before – during his fourth year, in DADA class when Moody cast the Imperius on them …

Now he was in a real mess, Harry realized. He eyed the group of Aurors wearily.

"Minister, you know, as well as I do, that it was not Percy Weasley I killed, but a Death Eater under disguise. I suspect that it is the same Death Eater who put you under the Imperius," another gasp emitted from the crowd. Dumbledore was looking at Harry, frowning calculatingly. "The Imperius can be beaten, minister. I've done it, so can you."

Fudge's face paled for a moment. He closed his eyes as if fighting an internal battle and then made a gesture at the Aurors behind him, who surrounded Harry instantly in a circle. Harry glanced around, looking for familiar faces and found none.

"Enough nonsense. You will be taken directly to Azkaban to start your life sentence. There are stacks of evidence against you. The dead body of Percy Weasley is one of them. During critical times such as this, simple murderers like you will be thrown into Azkaban. You have the rights to call witness for your defense, but your trial would have to wait until the crisis of the moment is solved," Fudge gave him a sickly sweet smile. "You will give up your wand right now and follow the Aurors. Any struggle and they are authorized to use extreme force."

The Aurors took a step forward. Harry didn't flinch. His wounds were still bleeding and stinging, and he had endured enough today. His patience had reached its limit.

"Sorry, Minister, but I did not kill Arthur Weasley's son. I refuse to accept the charges."

Fudge's grin grew wider.

"So, you would like to take on a dozen Aurors of the highest rankings then?"

"Not if they are stupid enough to try," Harry answered coldly. He raised his hand to cast a shield charm.

"CRUCIO!" the spell came completely unexpected. Harry heard it and recognized the voice. He remained stationary and let the pain hit him, twisting around before the spell arrived. He looked into Ginny's eyes and the hate he saw into them pained him even more than the curse itself.

The spell died off when Ginny saw the resigned look in Harry's eyes. She fell apart again, sobbing. Harry kneeled on the floor, panting. The Cruciatus burst all the wounds on his face again, turning his head into a bloody mass. Fudge laughed softly.

"Well done, Miss Weasley. This is excellent revenge for your brother. You have helped to capture a dangerous criminal and under the circumstances your use of the unforgivable curse can be forgiven. Bring him," he gestured the Aurors, who closed in cautiously, expecting resistance.

But Harry didn't resist. In fact, he didn't move at all. His gaze was fixed on the darkness outside the open gate, where the storm continued.

Outside, shadows swirled as if alive.

Fudge followed his gaze dumbly, and the twelve Aurors followed their minister mechanically. Thirteen pair of blank eyes looked into the thick curtain of rain.

"What? I see nothing," Fudge commented in confusion.

Harry didn't move. He had a smile, a triumphant smile. Silvia had a similar gesture, but she was holding her heart as if it was hurting. Her face was screwed up in pain.

"No, but it doesn't change the fact that it's out there," Harry whispered. Dumbledore, who had remained thoughtfully silent all the time, suddenly looked up, his eyes darkening in realization.

The wind continued to howl and the rain continued to pour. For the first time, people realized how cold it really was. Shivers cycled around the room, touching everyone but Harry. Seconds past, the shadows seemed to become heavier. Darkness seeped into the opening of the Gate, battling with the brightness and the warmth. Gradually, the chill that settled around everybody's neck turned to frost.

Harry's eyes fastened on something the others couldn't see. His body radiating bitter determination.

"It's looking for me," he muttered, half to himself, half to the Weasley family. "No matter what you think of me, it was not Percy I killed. I hope you would realize that eventually. I have to go now – no one here is strong enough to match the power awaiting outside."

Harry continued to mutter as he took a step forward. "Of course! This _is_ his plan – to have me isolated, helpless. Voldemort, you're smarter than I though."

He quickened his pace. Nobody sought to stop him. Everything was happening too fast. Nobody understood.

"Harry, what is it? What's outside?" Dumbledore's weary voice trailed after him.

Harry laughed softly, a twisted, hungry laugh. Power radiated from his visibly like light, crimson light of fury. His hair blew into his bloody face. He twisted and cracked his neck and inhaled deeply.

"The demon has come."

* * *

Apocalypse19: lol... is this long enough? thanks. i don't really ppl not reviewing. i'm kinda posting it just to finish it. i've had my review war already.

bandgsecurtiyaw: thanks

EvaFan: well... he'll turn darker, but not evil dark, just dark in the sense that he doesn't care about how many ppl he kills before he gets to voldemornt. hope that's ok !

Junky: he won't summon a demon. Harry doesn't have the resources although he's perfectly capable. im not telling you how he kills it though. ppl seemed to have guessed it anyway.

jbfritz: sure, thansk!

Nyeshet: i love long reviews. anyway - i dont think i made the face - switching potion part particularly clear. as you can see - it's percy. actually, harry revealed the prophecy to her when they were both in hospital. she always knew, just never mentions it. i really don't konw how to describe a romantic dinner, so i left it out and only implied it. i thought there was enough clues.

I didn't have Tom Riddle in mind when i wrote the hideout part, but you've just given me a great idea. I'd be using that! Harry and the Demon won't be fighting in front of everyone else ... harry's gonna portkey them to a random location... you've guessed correctly, but as you'll find out soon, Harry doesn't absorb the Demon's personality.

Harry Foureyes: it's an interesting idea - the phoenix feeding off his negative emotions ... but no. the Black Phoenix doesn't do that. it doesn't even eat. it's dead. it absorbes life and magic because it itself is like a large portal between life and death, so anything alive near it will be sucked in. it is a bit perverted when i think about it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: **

**Hunted **

**A/N: Sorry about such an late update ... I'm taking Mr James Evan's advice - i.e. update more slowly so you guys can get used to it after I move beyond chapter 20. Actually ... I havebig problem right now because I seem to have lost Chapter 19, so I have to write it again and it doesnt fit anywhere. My style has totally changed since a year ago. I did my best, but it still looked out of place. **

A mixture of rain, snow and hail clattered onto the frozen lake. Wind howled furiously and the dying specters of the trees rocked with it. A great shadow swept across the Hogwarts ground, taking every breath of life, turning the already frozen castle exterior more obsolete.

Within the shadow, a figure stood swaying in the storm. Its form shifted constantly like a patch of black smoke, darker than the gloom of midnight. It had no shape within the cloak that confined him, but a writhing darkness. It was there long before the time of men and wizard. It was there even before life was created, before the first bird to fly or the first fish to swim. It was there, existing in a different universe where it intermingled with the spirits of its brethren. It had neither fear nor pity nor compassion, nor did it have a name, for it didn't have the need of these in its own world.

In this world, it reaped and fed on the souls of countless human life that seemed so insignificant to it. It hunted and killed out of necessity, and death was the sole purpose of its existence. For this, it was named the Reaper.

Had the Reaper any thoughts, it would have noted the boy before him, his sense of confidence, his aura of power, his air of command. But no, to the Reaper, he was but another victim – the one marked by death, the charge that bound it to this earth. Killing _him_ would be his ultimate pleasure, one which no one can take away.

The boy reached out and touched something hanging down his neck just as the Reaper reached out a tentacle of smoke and wrapped him. Together they left the ground, drifting through emptiness. After a while, they landed on a hilltop where the darkest shadows were lit by the sparkling stars.

The demon and the boy turned to study each other.

The boy seemed a formidable opponent. His ice-cool face was marked by several bleeding cuts but at the same time unmarked by any signs of fear. His swollen eyes showed plain acceptance. His dark hair fluttered as the wind bluffed pass them. The boy looked up at the sky, at the clouds gathering at an impossible speed. He glanced again at the Reaper, his face dawning with realization - Reaper was calling the storm.

The two faced each other silently, two shadows foreboding as death. Soon, their forms dissolved in the gathering darkness. The boy bowed slightly to the Reaper, who didn't bow back. Suddenly, he struck out his wand and red fires exploded into the shadow. There was no sound as the red jet of light soared through the shadows and in a moment it was lost. In its path, the Reaper stood waiting patiently. The boy frowned, as if confused. He tucked away the wand and reached out both hands. Another gulf of fire, this time bright yellow, shot out from them and struck the demon soundlessly. The yellow fire burned on its form for a moment and died away.

The Reaper shook itself, dark cloak bellowing in the wind, and then it resumed waiting patiently for its chance. The boy was an interesting specimen, it noted. He didn't seem to be perturbed by the situation like all the other humans were.

A second later the boy was acting again. He took out his wand and with a wave turned it into a small knife.

"_REPERCUSSUS_!" he shouted, slashing the blade across his chest. Splashes of blood oozed out sluggishly, from it grew a dark red Shield, gurgling and fizzing. Where he stood, the yellowed grass burnt up into ashes.

The demon studied him silently. The boy _was_ different. He interested him in some ways he couldn't explain. He had so much willpower that even the fear of death was buried deep under layers of coldness. Interesting or no, however, the boy had to be killed. It was the Repear's charge: to kill the boy named Harry Potter.

Reaper moved. For a second it assumed a shape mockingly similar to Harry's, then purple light darted out of the shadow in a zigzag motion and struck him light lightening.

The purple light hit the BloodShield with a barely perceptible pause, and then pierced his defenses like hot-knife through butter. It struck him on the hand. His left hand.

Harry felt pain. His left arm went numb instantly, but for some reason the purple bolt failed to blow his hand off. Then he realized that his left hand was still wearing the Graphorn Glove. An eerie purple radiance engulfed his hand, pinching him like thousands of tiny needles. The Graphorn Glove shattered into dust, taking the light with it.

The battlefield fell into silence again.

Then Harry attacked. He pocked his wand in the holster and with dazzling speed threw out his arms. "ATTONO!" Bright lightening pierced the almost material darkness, hammering into the demon, hurling it backwards. Again the dark shape burned like a piece of rag and again the demon was unscathed.

Stretches of shadows reached out and covered Harry's shield in every angle, testing its strength. He renewed the BloodShield just in time, but still felt dizzy under the pressure. After a moment the shadows withdrew, slowly, casually. Again, Harry felt the force surrounding his shield weaken. Closing his eyes, he pushed with his mind. The weakened shield bulged, formidable as ever.

Harry was panting, but the demon remained stationary and unharmed.

With high intensity, a shower of spells burst forth from Harry's fingers. Again the Reaper drifted away, elegant like a patch of smoke, allowing the spells to pass him. This time Harry felt the magic within his body, an unexplainable jolt of pain never felt before. The magic was doing something to him. Several rounds of powerful spells were draining his strength and his body was opening up to channel more power. The Black Phoenix stirred, peering at him with one eye open.

Harry suddenly remembered his Soul Orb. With a sigh of relief he tried to call up the formidable weapon. There was no time for the proper posture, he simply closed his eyes and pictured his magic. No response. It seems that the Black Phoenix had completely devoured the power of his Soul Orb. His most powerful weapon was gone.

The Reaper, sensing the slight weakness, charged. No more than a shadow it struck and coated Harry like a blanket. Harry raised a hand only to find that there was nothing to fight against, only a growing pressure on his Shield. He closed his eyes and with utmost strength threw the shadows aside furiously. And again there was no sound.

He felt something tremor in his heart, a nervousness. But he wasn't afraid yet – he hadn't lost. The battle simply hadn't gone the way he expected it to. It appeared that he underestimated the Reaper, just as Voldemort had underestimated him by sending the Reaper here alone.

But there was no time to waste on thinking. The shadowy form sprang again, barely visible and completely soundless. Harry threw himself aside this time rather than using any spells. His shield served as a cushion and he bounced up to a standing position, turning the ground charred and smoking.

Pain and nausea washed over him. The air around him flickered. Strong as it may be, the Blood Shield charm drained too much energy, too much life. The broken ribs began to hurt, as did his head. Harry cursed inwardly: this wasn't one of his best moments to fight, he was injured, he was tired, and worse he was confused and had no focus. For a moment Harry's thoughts darted to tonight's events. Too much had taken place. The others believed him to be a murderer; Ginny hated him to the bones; the Ministry of Magic was after him. Harry realized that even if he survived this battle, he was still a hunted man.

The moment of distraction gave Reaper its chance. It lunged, massive shadow wrapping around Harry. With a deathlike silence, it crushed the Blood Shield like egg …

The attack once more came completely unaware, and Harry felt his soul being ripped out of him. He struggled to fight the waves of desperation and sorrow filling him. His head swarmed in confusion as past and present mixed in one …

He was six again, he watched as Dudley fought a way through a pile of birthday presents, while his heart was bursting with jealousy… He watched as aunt Petunia was hugging Dudley with a dreamy glow on her face, while he swallowed the lump of longing stuck in his throat… Ripper and bulldog was chasing him up a tree, and the Dursleys were laughing below on the lawn, while he trembled with fear… Uncle Vernon was whipping him for climbing onto the school rooftop, and he felt the raw pain on his back anew…

"_Dumbledore would like you to show manners… bow to death, Harry … "_

He was staring into Cedric's face, at his open grey eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house…

"_Come on, you can do better than that!" _

Sirius's body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…

"_Not Harry! Please not Harry!" _

A flash of green, a piercing scream…

It began to rain. Sub-zero raindrops poured onto him mercilessly as the thunder raged above his head. Harry stopped struggling against the shadow that shrouded him. Waves after waves of emotions smashed onto his brain, saturating it with an overwhelming mixture of grief, anger, happiness, nostalgia, sadness and confusion. His head began to hurt as strongly as the rest of his body did.

Ron was punching him … Ginny cast the Cruciatus on him … A dozen Aurors cornered him … The man who pretended to be Percy lay dead … Ginny almost kissed him …

His hands twitched as he continued to stare emptily. The black mist swayed around him, changing shape constantly but unable to get in …

_Cedric Diggory died because of me… Sirius died because of me… now they think I killed Percy…_ Harry had forgotten about the Demon. There was only one thing that occupied his mind – a sense of betrayal. The person he loved most tortured him with the Cruciatus, the closest person he had to a mother watched him being tortured…

There was another stir within his soul. The Black Phoenix moved.

For a moment, there was only anger and despair, and then he felt a surge of emotions so strong that his soul felt like bursting. His life began to replay before him: every time he had experienced unbearable fear, every time he brushed close to death, and somewhere among all these, a redhead was looming ever closer.

"AAHHHHHH!" Harry screamed, kneeling onto the ground and pulling at his hair in agony. Within him, the Black Phoenix spread its wings and uttered a piercing cry. The shadow was thrown off from him in a dazzling flash that pierced the darkness like lightening.

The Reaper rose again in a robed form. The corners of it cloak was charred and smoking and some of its essence was leaking out. The boy was kneeling, head bowed, but the atmosphere around him was different. There was a feeling of hatred that matched the Reapers, there was longing, there was desperation, and there was sadness. Then all the feelings stopped altogether.

The Reaper looked at the boy, puzzled. A moment ago there was a multitude of emotions that was enough to make a human explode. Now, however, these feelings were switched off like a machine. Even with its limited understanding of human beings, the demon knew that this was impossible. Then there was the boy's aura. A moment ago it was milky white tinged with grey, now it had became an impenetrable darkness like death itself.

The Reaper felt something within him. Like a bubble bursting. It hurt, sending shivers to every corner of its essence. If it were a human, the demon would have realized that this feeling was called fear…

Slowly, Harry stood up. His eyes stared emptily before him. There were no more emotions, no more memories, and no more thoughts. His mind had switched off, and his body had turned into all but a simple container channeling the unlimited power of the Mind Magic. His Black Phoenix instincts too over, acting on his last rational thought: destroy the Reaper.

He reached out a hand…

But the demon was quicker. The shadowy form closed in upon Harry once more. This time, instead of turning into an ethereal form, the Reaper lowered his hood like a Dementor.

Harry regained consciousness out of pure horror. In front of him was the face of his godfather, Sirius Black. The black eyes were dull like black marbles embedded in his skull; where the mouth should be, there is a hole, breathing out the scent of death. The face experienced too much pain and suffering to look human again, but the features were unmistakable. Harry opened his mouth, unable to act…

The face changed again – to his mother, his father, Cedric… Each transformation smote his conscious like a white-hot fist. Somehow, Harry knew that this is how they suffered in hell, tortured and re-tortured by whatever lived there. And it was his fault …

The Black Phoenix shivered and gave away. The Reaper's mouth made a sucking sound, dry and hoarse like the forlorn cry of a dying man. Harry felt lighter and lighter. He watched the abyss drawing nearer every second, knowing that he had condemned his soul to eternal suffering. The Phoenix within him fluttered its wings in desperation, equally bound to his fate.

Yet somehow, even when all light were out, a torch still burned in his heart. He remembered the flaming hair, soft brown eyes, cute freckles and supple lips that so nearly kissed him tonight …

As the terror subsided, his memory blossomed. He remembered a spell he learned long ago in the book of Gryffindor, the one spell to subdue a demon although with serious side effects. With his remaining strength, he muttered out the words.

"_coagmento dat pron manes exsecratus" _

The Reaper froze. It heard a voice calling him from the other side of space, and it was through the boy's body.

"_coagmento dat pron manes exsecratus"_

The demon's grip on Harry's soul slackened. The Black Phoenix soared way, chirping in relief. A longing replaced the Reaper's hatred. It remembered the feeling of freedom of not having a material body and the closeness it shared with its brethrens.

"_coagmento dat pron manes exsecratus"_

Killing seemed insignificant now. The nearly soulless body of Harry Potter once more filled with life, and to the Reaper, it turned to a portal summoning it to the other side.

Leaving the burden of power behind, the demon plunged into Harry's body.

The darkness swirled, like dirty water being spiraling down a plughole, they were sucked into Harry's body, filtered of their magical quality. Time froze at the instant. The air became stagnant, like glass. Raindrops ceased falling in midair, and the grass stood beneath his feet, rigid like wax statues.

For a moment, there seemed to be a vacuum in the air. After a few seconds, everything returned. Harry gazed around, grass was still grass, charred and smoking where his shield ground over them. There was no sign of the Reaper, it was as if the demon had never been.

Then the pain hit him. It wasn't like anything he anticipated. The magical effect of several powerful magical beast, potions, spells and the power of a strong demon had just been dumped into his body and he felt them struggling violently within his soul, fighting against each other, fighting against his own magic like something alive that sought to burst out, fighting against the Black Phoenix. His old hunger for power was reawakened, and the chasm in his soul – from which the Black Phoenix was born – gaped wide like a grave. It was pain beyond pain, so much pain that it almost felt pleasurable. His skin began to bubble, his bones grinding and breaking against each other, his each and every cell shaking violently in their place. Harry felt his heart beating faster and faster, his lungs boiling. He groaned into the wet soil, twisting and thrashing …

The last thing he felt was his blood bursting from his ears, eyes and nose. Then the darkness took him, and Harry knew that there would be death, pain, suffering and betrayal no more.

They say that time crawls when you don't enjoy it.

Albus Dumbledore sighed, gazing out of the window of his study at the dark but clear sky. The weather had been good since the night Harry left them, and now it'd been two weeks since that fateful night. Two weeks felt like two years.

Dumbledore was a man who had made few mistakes. Now, however, he felt that he had made the biggest miscalculation in his life. He cursed himself for lacking faith and trust. He felt rotten for being trusted and depended on blindly, unquestioningly, when he couldn't repay with even a fraction of such belief. A drop of tear tickled down his long, silver beard. It was a drop of tear containing the extremes of all negative human emotions: sadness, guilt, anger, despair, hate…

Because of his mistakes, the Wizarding world was doomed.

The Headmaster's office was set for a meeting to be held. The room, however, was decorated differently. The walls were decorated by a mourning black and the chairs had black flowers tied to their backs. Fawkes the phoenix perched sadly on its stand, singing a melancholic song as if it too shared the broken heart with those people who had just entered.

The Weasley family walked silently through the door, Ginny at the head looking defiant and followed by her five brothers and their parents. Supporting Molly by the arm was Silvia, her graceful face dark with turmoil. Behind them all, Severus Snape closed the door quietly, his face unmarked by any emotions but was unusually pale.

Ten people settled in their chairs and drifted into mournful silence, the odd one out was Snape, who stood rigid aloof, gazing at the Headmaster's back with his dark, intent eyes.

Dumbledore didn't turn. He continued to scrutinize the night, listening to the heavy breathings of eleven people behind him. It took him a whole minute to work up his courage.

"Percy isn't dead."

Silence.

Dumbledore smiled grimly. He expected this. Slowly, he turned to face the dazed Weasley family. Only Severus looked unsurprised. But then, he never looked surprised. The Headmaster sighed heavily.

"Percy is not dead," he repeated.

Gradually, the information began to sink in. The change of expression and colour on Molly's face was visible, Author broke into a sob, but the children continued to look at him, their faces grim. Somewhere to the left, Fawkes hooted.

"What do you mean he isn't dead?" Ron demanded, putting his arm around Ginny. Dumbledore noted that the young girl looked more heartbroken than on the night when her "brother" was "killed."

He sighed again. Of course, the explanation was inevitable, as was the implication behind it. "I took a sample of the dead body's blood to a muggle police friend of mine. He did what the muggles call DNA test and compared the result with a test done on Percy's hair. The dead body did not belong to Percy."

"But how do you know that this TNA thing works? How can it tell?" It was Bill who spoke this time. He had been the calmest so far and it had been him who insisted the body to be examined.

The Portraits were listening intently, clearly interested. Some of them even had handkerchiefs.

"It doesn't matter whether the muggle method works or not," Dumbledore answered gravely. "When I learned this, I did several magical tests on the body. It turned out that a complicated potion has been used to the imposter. It's generally known as the Face-switching potion, outlawed a century ago. The effect of this potion, unlike the Polyjuice potion, lasts a month. It is almost impossible to detect. It requires the person being impersonated to give up his facial skin."

"Then Percy…" Molly whispered shakily.

" – Is not dead," finished Dumbledore. "I've traced him with some artifacts I own, he's presently locked in a cell under Azkaban. They kept him alive because the potion only works when the impersonated one lives. If he dies, his face dies too. I've planned a rescue mission and I'll be going personally to get him out of there."

Snape remained impassive. Silvia and Molly still looked as if she couldn't believe in the turn of events. The boys and their father simply looked relieved. Dumbledore felt his eyes tingle, but he didn't want to disturb the happy moment.

But it seemed that he didn't need to. The happy moment was already broken. Everybody in the room suddenly turned to stare at Ginny, who was clutching Silvia's arms forlornly.

"Harry…"

Silence again.

"Oh shit!" Ron cursed, slapping his face.

"Albus, you have to find him, bring him back," Molly uttered rapidly, blushing in shame. "We owe him an apology. I…"

She trailed off. Tears fell from the old man's eyes silently. Nobody had seen Dumbledore cry before. He glanced at the mourning decoration and looked back at her. Suddenly, Molly's face darkened in realization.

"You – you don't mean – no – it's not possible -" she seemed unable to take in anything more this night. Fred and George were looking at their mother, puzzled. Ron and Bill were busily comforting Ginny. It seemed that they didn't hear.

"I have ways to trace him, to trace his magical activity," Dumbledore looked around them all. "The moment he left the school, I returned to my office to find his position. I admit I did it not because I cared about him, but because I believed he was a murderer," he confessed, looking more ashamed than anyone had seen him before. "That night there was an incredible surge of magical activity around him, during which I believe he battled with the demon. Ever since then, the magical level in him had been decreasing. This morning, it reached zero. Harry is dead."

Silence for the third time that night.

Then Ginny broke down into a wail and run from the office. Silvia chased after her, calling out softly. Dumbledore watched them go with a pained expression.

"But – Albus – I – I – don't understand," Molly stammered, her eyes wild. Ron had buried his face in his hands, his body shaking. "What magical activity?"

Dumbledore sighed, standing up. "Each wizard or witch, as long as he or she is alive, there is some magical activity in the body. I monitored Harry's magical activity," he pointed to the little silver machines on the shelf. "That's how I found out about the increase in his power this summer. Now there is no more magic in him. This is simply impossible, so he must be dead."

Molly Weasley sat stunned, then tears began to tickle down her cheeks. She looked too stricken to speak. Her husband placed his arms around her and led her up.

"Albus, we should go for now – none of us slept much over two weeks, and now you tell us that Ha – that Harry is dead," he said dazedly. "I'm sorry, I just can't accept this, no I can't… sorry."

He broke off, his legs trembling. Shaking his head, Arthur led his wife out of the office door. The boys hesitated a little, and followed.

Albus Dumbledore sighed once more and looked at the potion master, whose face remained emotionless although the corners of his eyes were red. Snape held his gaze for a moment.

"Albus, are you sure about this information?" he mumbled, as if he too was unwilling to believe. "The prophecy – the Dark Lord – I mean, he couldn't just be dead!"

Dumbledore shock his head sadly, looking older than ever.

"I'm sorry Severus, but no one has battled a demon and survived. Not one case in history. Even if Harry did survive, he would be wounded and his location is so remote that he would starve to death. It's all my fault…"

Dumbledore took of his half-moon glasses and buried his face in his hands, his silver beard shaking. Snape was amazed. He had never seen the Headmaster this hopeless before. Even during the crisis of the last war, Albus Dumbledore had been the man who maintained everyone's faith. Now, however, he looked like a vulnerable old man, tired and grieving.

Not someone to battle the Dark Lord now that Harry Potter was gone.

Dumbledore lifted his face. His eyes were red. He replaced his glasses and recovered a serious expression.

"Warn Kingsley, I want to triple the school's defense. Tell him to find the most trustworthy Aurors and it would be better if the Ministry is unaware of this situation. If Harry was right about that imposter Percy, then he's right about Fudge. Find Remus, I would like him to go into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid and warn the Centaurs," the Headmaster said calmly, straightening up. "You're right, this isn't time to be weak. I expect Death Eater activity to increase now that Voldemort's key obstacle is removed."

He paced to his table and summoned a stack of paper. With a wave of his hand the room lit up. Snape nodded curtly and retreated towards the door.

"What of the Weasley family, and Miss Granger when she finds out?" Snape asked before he exited through the door.

"They will get over this sooner than you think. The best tribute to Harry now is to defeat Voldemort, or at least hinder him as long as we can. The Harry I know wouldn't want us to grieve for him and lose hope."

Snape nodded silently in agreement and took a step back. But the Headmaster was speaking again.

"You know what I mean Severus, don't you?"

Snape swallowed, his dark eyes glinting.

"You've finally changed tactic. You want to meet him head on."

Ginny sat in a little hollow close to the lake, alone. She wrote, "I'm sorry", on small pieces of parchment and burned them, watching the smoke drifting gradually to the sky, dissipating as if it didn't care about a thing in the world. Ginny hoped it would carry her message all the way up, up to heaven, to wherever Harry was. He couldn't have been sent to hell, no, he was too noble for that. Ginny threw another piece of parchment into the fire, watching the flame devouring it hungrily.

This was all she did each day.

Lessons barely continued after Christmas holidays. When Harry transpired to be innocent and dead, all the teachers forgot about their lessons. They disappeared constantly into the Headmaster's office where the Order of the Phoenix met, leaving their lessons unfinished. The other students didn't understand this, of course, but Ginny did. She, like the teachers, knew about the prophecy. Harry was the only hope to salvation, and now Harry was dead.

Ron and Hermione grieved, of course. They wept into each other's shoulders, the reason unknown to the rest of the students. Ron punched and slapped himself repeatedly until Hermione had to bind him with spells. During the first few days, they cried whenever something reminded them of their best friend. Then they stopped crying and only sobered up. Soon they got over their grieving, even quitted their habit of saving Harry a seat for meal. Now, after a month had passed, they stopped mentioning him at all. They seemed to have forgotten Harry's death, forgot the part they played in it. Ginny understood this. They had found solace in each other, found comfort in each other. During the night they lay together, both thinking about the one person that gave them joy and pain. But Ginny couldn't do this. She had no one.

Not that nobody offered. Everyone assumed that she was grieving for her brother and the boys offered to give her some physical comfort. When Colin tried to convince her to sleep with him, she slapped him and nearly cursed him. Nobody made any more attempts after that, and she resumed walking around like a zombie.

Ginny couldn't forgive herself, she couldn't forget. She did not let her parents know, and she didn't even hint to Ron how the guilt in her only seemed to multiply with each sunset. She hid away in the night, calling for Harry, waiting for the answer she knew she would not hear. She dreamed about him in her sleeps, thought about him when she was awake, and as each day passed, she realized more and more clearly that Harry would never return. He was dead. The others didn't understand. They didn't see the pain in Harry's eyes when she tortured him in rage. Harry could have killed both her and Ron in a flash to defend himself, but he didn't. Ron had called him a "monster", but to Ginny he was still the same Harry, the one who withstood torture just like he swallowed the lies in the Daily Prophet last year. But in her moment of anger, she was the one who drove him away.

Ginny understood why the other seemed to have forgotten about Harry, because they were at war. Aurors and order members patrolled the corridors and grounds openly, casting their eyes on anything suspicious. All of them seemed to have caught Moody's paranoia. She, Ron and Hermione now had Aurors tailing them wherever they went. Ron found this a privilege, but Ginny hated it. The Order members smiled sadly at her whenever she passed, and often these smiles were not returned.

Hermione, in her own confident way, believed that the way to honor Harry was to continue the DA the best they can, and like the typical Hermione, she made this known to everybody.

"Harry is gone," said Hermione. "It doesn't matter where he went, he left because he had to, but we should carry on his will to continue the DA."

Harry's death wasn't common knowledge. Dumbledore didn't want widespread panic since people held Harry Potter as some kind of talisman. The papers had their own theories about Harry's absence. They came up with stories of Harry battling to guard his innocence and escaping into the night. There were sightings of Harry hunting down Death Eaters like the shadow of death. In their story, Harry became the hunter instead of the hunted. People lapped it up, and that was all that mattered.

"We've learned enough from him to ensure our survival in the up and coming war as long as we stick together. I know that we're all from different houses, but the bond we share is too strong to be gapped by house difference. As long as we stick together, practice the formations we learned, we can still fight in the war as Harry wanted us to." Her enthusiastic words were greeted by cheers from the crowd.

Ginny was shaking her head. _Wrong, Hermione, you got it all wrong._ She said silently, trying to keep back the tears. _He trained us because he doesn't want us rush into battle and to death, he trained us so that we can defend ourselves. The Defense Association was never an army._

Hermione was speaking again. "We should, from today onwards, help to patrol the corridors, in teams of course." That authoritative voice was making Ginny sick, and she hated herself inwardly for thinking that way towards her friend. "I'm not claiming leadership here. No one but Harry has that authority. I suggest that among each group we elected a leader and the decisions could then be made by voting."

_Wrong again, Hermione._ Ginny thought. _This is a war, you need a strong and authoritative figure to make decisions quickly. There is no time for arguments and debates._

She didn't want to be in this room anymore. The formality, the warmongering of this situation was killing her. She desperately wanted to get out, and it seemed that Hermione knew this.

"Any questions? Ginny?" Hermione asked challengingly. Her eyes softened immediately when she saw her expression. She gave her friend an understanding nod and continued the meeting.

But it didn't make Ginny feel any better.

While this DA session was going on, there was another meeting upstairs in the Headmaster's office. Half of the Order of the Phoenix was gathered, listening to Snape making his report, their faces grim.

"- As I was saying, I think the Dark Lord suspects my double identity. I was followed constantly when I'm on Death Eater business, they no longer trust me," Snape declared plainly, without his typical sneer. "So you shouldn't count on my information either."

Dumbledore nodded from his seat. "Thank you Severus, I believe that your spying days are over. You should stop attending Death Eater meetings altogether and work for the Order full time," the old man stated. "Now, Molly, has Percy recovered yet?"

The figure sitting closest to the fireplace answered, her voice shaking slightly, "No, the healers told me that he should make a full recovery within two months. They have to keep his consciousness suspended because of the effect of that potion. His face will recover as well. Apparently the Death Eaters kept his wound clean to prevent infections."

Dumbledore nodded again. He rubbed his temples slightly

"The situation in the Ministry is the same. We can't determine whether Fudge is under the Imperius or no, anyhow he hasn't hindered Order activity so far. The only problem is that he wouldn't call off the search for Harry, as much as I try to convince him otherwise," Dumbledore took off his half-moon glasses and rubbed his fatigue eyes. The others also relaxed in their seat. "Yet I have suspicions - " he continued. " - that he is acting under Voldemort's instructions. Voldemort would not rest until he sees Harry's body. He knows fully well as we do that his Reaper vanished. Harry and the Reaper may have destroyed each other, in any case he wouldn't be sure as long as Harry's body is still missing."

Silvia opened her mouth as if to speak, but then she hesitated and swallowed instead. Her movements, however, didn't escape Dumbledore's eyes.

"What is it Silvia?" asked the Headmaster, his eyes scanning her face.

"Well, I have a question," she stated. Snape muttered something like "you always do", but Dumbledore shut him up with a glance. He nodded, signaling her to continue.

"Why is Voldemort so cautious these days? From what I remembered, he wasn't so discrete last time," Silvia ignored Snape and continued. "It's almost as if he's afraid of something."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment, he crossed his hands together and looked at the ceiling.

"Because he is - " he finally said, while putting a yellow sweet in his mouth. " - Lemon Drops, anyone? If there is one thing Voldemort fears, it's failure. No, maybe fear is the wrong word. More like cautious of, or detests. Ever since his defeat last time, he's more self-conscious of his limits. His confidence had been fractured, we could say. If only he had a little less confidence and more patience, if only he waited to find out more about the prophecy – after all he knew who made it – he could have avoided what befell him. Now that he has returned, he would be cautious not to make the same mistake again."

Silvia nodded, accepting the explanation.

"Speaking of the prophecy, what about Harry?" she voiced hesitantly.

"What about him?" Dumbledore tensed, his face clouding over sadly.

"I have a feeling that he's not dead," she answered simply, ignoring the shocked glances. "First of all, the prophecy never stated that The Boy Who Lived dies, and then there is the matter of his power. The more I think about it, the more I believe that he couldn't have been killed by the demon."

Everybody was listening attentively now. Many faces lit up hopefully. Molly Weasley's eyes had tears in them again.

"I sensed it that day, when it waited outside the gate. You know that practicing the Mind Magic sharpens your senses, especially the ability to sense magic," the others nodded. Nobody questioned the effectiveness of the Mind Magic. "Well, that night – I don't know how to say it - It was a suffocating feeling, like my life was sucked out. The magic field of the Demon, the Reaper you call it, is overwhelming. It rendered me powerless. But Harry wasn't affected at all, and in fact, there was a boost in him, almost as if he was exited to meet a challenge. It was the trial he had been waiting for, a battle for survival before he meets the Dark Lord. He knows what would happen if he dies, and he wasn't going to lose a battle like that."

There was a pensive silence in the room. Every stared at different points, lost in thoughts.

"How do you explain the lack of magical activity then?" Dumbledore responded after a minute. "There must be some magic in him as long as he's alive.How HHasdf

"

Silvia nodded her head emphatically.

"Yes, exactly. But after such a battle, the amount of power produced is perfectly capable of disrupting the magical field around him. Your Tracer traces his magic only, so maybe it's not Harry that died, it's your tools malfunctioning."

Silvia's face was almost glowing in expectation. She glanced at the door, as if expecting Harry the burst into the door suddenly.

Dumbledore smiled grimly. The traces of despair still lingered in his eyes. "Alas, Silvia, I wish it were so. But let's not dwell on this. We must prepare for the worst," he looked as if he wanted to end the topic. "Of course, we can always hope that Harry is alive and well. We can always hope."

He paused for a moment and surveyed the others sadly.

"Aye, we can always hope."

Harry didn't know how long he had strayed in darkness. Time lost meaning to him, and everyday was as long as an eternity.

Finally, he saw light again.

He was in a room with no doors or windows, a room where the very walls seemed to be made of dazzling white light. He wasn't alone. There were people in the room with him, his mother, father and Sirius.

"Mum, Dad, Sirius!" he shouted, overjoyed, trying to reach out and touch them. It was then he realized that he had no control over his body. He felt panic rising within him.

But they seemed to be able to see him. Sirius reached out as if to touch him, but his father grabbed his arm.

"No Padfoot, Harry's not completely here yet. You can't touch him," he warned seriously and then his face relaxed into a smile. "I see my son has grown, and damn sexy too."

Harry glanced down. His body hung limply like a dead fish, and he was naked. He felt heat rising up his cheek.

"So, son, have you met the lucky girl yet?" James Potter teased, rising an eyebrow. "Look at your mum, she found you so impressive that she's crying."

Lily smacked her husband loudly on the arm while gazing at Harry longingly with tear-brimmed eyes.

"Come on Lily, ain't we dead people allowed to be jealous? I was never _that_ good looking when I was sixteen."

Lily narrowed her eyes at James and Sirius, who were both choking with laughter.

"Honestly, he's your _son_, act like a father and don't you _dare_ mention one of your sex jokes!" she shifted her eyes to Harry again, as if trying to memorize him. "Why are you here, Harry?"

Harry was enthralled by the scene of his parents and Sirius together. An odd lump was forming in his throat as he watched them bicker. The question brought him back to reality.

"Er… I don't know. Where am I exactly?" he looked around, seeing nothing but blinding white light.

Sirius scratched his head, confused. "Can't you see? We're in Godric's Hollow, or the Afterlife version of it. We're in a different universe altogether."

"I see nothing but white light, and what is this Afterlife thing you're talking about? Am I dead?"

James grimaced.

"No, luckily and unluckily, you're not. You're halfway between life and death. That's why you can't enter our world. I've met people like this, they usually get sucked back to the world of the living after a while. What happened to you though? Has Voldemort won?"

Voldemort, Harry realized, he has forgotten about Voldemort. And then the event before he "died" rushed back to him.

"What is it Harry?" Lily asked anxiously. "You look positively green – or you would if we were on the Other Side."

Harry continued to stare as he watched that night replaying in his head – the Cruciatus, the Demon.

"Oh Shit."

So for the next few hours, Harry recounted all the important things had befallen him since Sirius died. When Harry described how Ron punched him and Ginny cursed him, tear began to pour out of his mother's eyes again. Both James and Sirius looked grave.

"Damn you Dumbledore," Sirius cursed. "I knew I shouldn't have left Harry with you."

"It wasn't his fault," Harry muttered softly. "It wasn't anybody's fault."

The four watched each other in silence.

"Then what?" James urged gently.

Harry swallowed, remembering the pain.

"Then I fought with the demon."

A pause.

"YOU WHAT?"

"I fought with the demon and we killed each other," Harry shrugged. "Come on! I'm not bragging or anything, but this thing has been tailing me ever since October. Sooner or later I had to fight it."

Lily was at a loss of words. She stuttered something incoherent and shook herself.

"So, what else have you done?"

Harry went on to describe the Chamber of secret and the Chamber of Slytherin. When he told them about the mirror, a large grin broke out on Sirius's face.

"Ha, I'm beginning to like this Slytherin fellow," he looked at his best friend. "Only a Marauder could think of something like that!"

"And only a Marauder's son knows how to use it," James smiled at Harry suggestively. "Tell me, son, have you by any chance used the mirror to spy on certain red head individual named Ginny Weasley?"

Harry blushed and looked away.

"How do you know?" he muttered.

James and Sirius snickered. "Come on Harry, you mentioned her name about once every ten sentence. I guess you inherited my liking of redheads," he laughed, looking sideways at his wife.

Lily shook her head. They were clearly hopeless. She turned her attention back to her son.

"So Harry, you really like her, huh?" she asked gently.

Harry nodded silently.

"But she drove me away, she hates me. I have no way to prove my innocence even if I go back now," he sobered, and his eyes hardened. "Can you kill me? I have the distinct feeling that if one of you touches me, I'll be able to join you. I don't want to live any more, there is nothing to live for."

There was another stunned silence. Lily was in tears again.

"Oh Harry, how I wish you would join us, how I wish to hold you again! But I can't do it, we can't, and you know why," she whispered. "It's your destiny to battle the Dark Lord, you cannot run from your destiny. If you seek death now, you've condemned your soul to eternal guilt."

James and Sirius nodded beside her. James reached out and held his wife's hand. Harry swallowed back the tears.

"But why? First they hid things from me, then they distrusted me. The only reason I didn't tell my friends about the prophecy was and is because they wouldn't understand the burden I bear," Harry argued back softly. "They think they understand me, but they don't, not even Dumbledore. All I want is a normal life. I'm willing to give up my magic, just so that there wouldn't be a Dark Lord after my life and people treating me like a hero for something I never did. The more I have power, the more I hate it. Maybe that's why I've been cold to Silvia lately, because I hated her. I hated her for making me so powerful."

Lily no longer tried to keep back her tear. She reached out so that her fingers were nearly brushing Harry's face. He closed his eyes, longing for the moment they made contact. But all he felt was cool air brushing past. As much as he tried, his body wouldn't even shiver.

"I don't pretend I understand Harry," her eyes suddenly widened. "But no matter what path you chose, Sirius, your father and I will always be behind you, but remember, the greatest ones always have to pass the trial of hardship. Give it a chance…"

Her voice faded, and the white room disappeared in swirling darkness like a dream. Harry felt sleep take him. He buried the memory of this experience in the deepest corner of his heart. Then everything was gone again.

He lay in a bed. The mattress was so soft that he was almost sinking in it. The pillow and the sheet covering him all had a fresh, clean smell. Too clean. He was so tired, so tired that even his eyelids felt heavy. He concentrated and reached out with his mind, trying to pick up some signs of magical activity. But his extra sensitive senses were gone.

Gradually, Harry heard voices around him, soft mummers, yet audible.

One of them was soft and feminine. There was a sweetness to it that made his heart clench.

"I see, all his tissues and muscles have to be rebuilt, but there's definitely potentials – come _on_, why can't I turn him? He'll heal much faster!" the voice was slightly sulky.

"_Vivien_! How many times do I have to tell you? This is the Potter boy. You've learnt the history, you know who he is. No, you can have any other man you like, whoever, whenever, wherever, but not him." This voice was rich, deep and magnetic, a man's voice.

"Fine, whatever you say, but I like him more than any other mortals I've met, and I would be looking for every chance to convince him to join us," the female voice responded coldly.

"Fate will decide everything. The most important thing right now is to make sure that the others don't find out about him. I'm not powerful enough to fend of the Dark One," the male voice said indifferently. "And for the last time, can you speak to me with a little respect? I am your father."

"You can't be my father for an eternity, _and_ you didn't go through the usual process, like fucking my mother, if I had one. Also, theoretically, I'm three hundred years old now, although I've slept ninety percent of it. Anyway you listen to the way mortals speak to their parents these days – I'm no where close to that!"

"Fine, fine, I won't argue. Look, the sun is about to rise. He would probably wake up tonight, but even after that, he will still be weak. I need you to look after him, can I trust you with this task?" the male voice asked. "And that means no sex, no blood."

"Of course! I guard what I love," The sweet, female voice answered indignantly. "I'll protect him with my lif – ok, ok, I know, can't help it – these mortal cliches are simply stuck in my head. Anyway, you should be going."

The room was silent after that, but Harry heard someone breathing softly close to him. Then sleep took him again.

* * *

Beware of Penguins: finally... some one i recognise. how are ya Mr Penguins? Nice to see you again! 

DJ: long review! dont we just love 'em? Here are answers to your questions

(1) Almost happens. Harry lost faith in his old friends afte what they did to him. now he's fighting for his destiny and mankind, and he's willing to sacrifice Hogwarts if he needs to.

(2) He has no control to his animagus power - yet, for reasons explained in next chapter but i'll tell you anyway. in order to become the Black Phoenix, he needs to die once. Black Phoenix survived death and now carries death with it, and so must Harry be the same if he was to tranformt into it. Harry's extremely powerful, but at the same time he has limited access to it. I don't want him to have too much extra advantage. He might be very powerful, he might be able to use alot of ancient spells, he might be a true immortal, but he can't bring up all his power at once. His body, as adapted to magic as it is, is made of flesh and blood. He's like a nuclear power station pouring out electricity into a copper wire. If he puts too much energy into himself, It'd just blow him up.

(3) He will gain newand powerful allies soon. I never considered changing the password to CoS, but now I'm going to do it. It's a great idea

(4) He aint gonna use the Chamber as a home. All he does in there is sleep. He's not going to shut himself a mile underground because that's just plain sad. In this story, Harry is not a homely guy.

(5) Possible ... I'll consider it .

(6) That's also cool, but as you'll soon realize, Harry doesn't need to feed his phoenix anymore. The excess power his body produces is enough for him to feed the phoenix himself. He'd still use that power on DEs though - he could turn them into a muggle if he tries. That's precisely what he does to a certain individual...

(7) I'm really glad you mentioned that. When his phoenix form eventually gets into trouble, who do you think will save him? Not Fawkes ...

cherrypi393THANKS!

ckk: Blush no... my face is burning... I'm melting ... I'm melting ... ahhh...

Szihuoko: if you think my story will end up with Harry/Ginny happily ever after, or something along the lines of they'll fuck and have kids, then i suggest you stop reading. because that aint happening. (this line is not directed against anyone. don't get offended.) Satisfied? Lol don't worry, my stories don't have happy endings.

harry rukes: me blood legend? for some reason, i really like that! thanks.

harrypotterfan89: no probs!

wizardmon92: thank you, i love you too AVADA KEDAVRA... (constant vigilance?)

ohmygoditsapretnel: Ron is an asshole ... no matter how much you wipe him, he'll always stink, but you always need him.

Hayden Elrics: muhahaha... i am a dark creature, after all.

bandgsecurtiyaw: merci.

AussieBloke: thanks! Ginny was just being stupid. she'll get over it.

lluvatar: yep... you're the God, i'll do what u say.

imgonnadie: thanks! really nice to hear thingsf like that!

jbfritz: thanks i will

James Evans: Evil boggart would like to inform Mr Evans that Evil Boggart has taken his advice about slowing down. Evil Boggart would also like to tell Mr Evans that if Evil Boggart receives any jinxed letter, he will personally hunt Mr. Evans down, show up next to his bed at midnight and become the ugliest girl ever ... so that Mr. Evans will be put off sex for ever.

Evil Boggart also loves long reviews!

GoterdamRung: thanks! yes... it will be a big emotional scar.

acerbus : sure!

Junky: well... Ginny is powerful enough to use any of the unforgivables... you;re right, Harry won't go pinning after her. not for a while because i've just introduced a new character who's sex starved. This story is R rated for something. I'm kinda stuck on chapter 19. i think i'll just delete chapter 20 and rewrite the whole thing!

Thanks for a great Review!

LegalAlien: lol... in my opinion, Harry's not going to forgive them at all...

Apocalypse19: was it too fast? i didn;t realize. i'll try to do something about it. dont worry i have no problems with any constructive advices. you can even flame me if you want!

DarkPhoenix2500: hey! you're the cousin of my Black Phoenix!

Honor-Harrington1982: ppl have the coolest nicks on this site . lol, here comes your update!

hyper yo yo boy: lol, you could have told me! i actually thought it wasboring too! anyway, i'm really glad that you likemy story now!


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

**Back to Life**

**A/N: This is a very important statement. **

I know that I threw in the vampires without warning, and they seemed to have popped out of nowhere. My bad … I should have provided some form of foreshadowing. Sorry about that!

However, even though the Vampires aren't strictly vital to the plot, I will still keep them here. The idea came spontaneously to me, and I'm not giving that up. I have a very personal reason for it.

You see … with strange authors like me, we bond with our characters at a personal level. It's pathetic, I know, but it happens. Sometimes, it gets to a point when I'm no longer writing for the sake of writing, but to have my ideas and fantasies realized. The vampire sequence is one of those places where I get carried away a bit. Vivien is my creation. She has everything I want in a girl, and I'm willing to forsake the plot just to give her a role.

Actually, what I said sounds really cheesy and sad. I'm not saying my life is such a failure that I need to seek solace in fiction, but sometimes people do tend to dramatize life, and when my illusions are broken, I need them forged elsewhere. I was talking with my friends one day about my perfect girl, and when I described her, they cruelly told me that such woman does not exist – and that I'm imaginative to the point of insanity.

But for me she does exist, she exists here, in my story, and in whatever I write in future there will be a character like her, until hundreds of people have met her. She would be as good as real then. It's like creating life, giving pure fiction a name, then a personality, and then a history and a future, and then try to make others love her, hate her, pity her … May be that's why a lot of people like writing. It gives them a chance to be God.

Sorry about all that bullshit. I've just had a rather emotional day.

* * *

"A lone Dark Lord on a lone dark throne… very poetic, do you not think so?" Lord Voldemort laughed softly as he surveyed the article. "Very entertaining, very entertaining indeed."

A shiver ran around the large circle of Death Eaters. Some of them muttered slightly, not daring to look up.

"Sorry? Didn't catch that," Voldemort cupped a hand around an ear. "I _implore_ you to speak louder, Avery."

The Death Eater called Avery cleared his throat in fear. He lifted his head up a few centimeters. Voldemort still had the sickening smile.

"I'm sorry my lord, I shall deal with that woman immediately. I'll torture her, I'll kil – "

Voldemort raised a hand, signaling for silence.

"No Avery, I want to leave her alone. Very entertaining woman, this Rita, and brave too …" Voldemort whispered lightly, returning to his seat in the centre of the room.

"Wormtail, there are several dead bodies in the backyard, it would be nice if you can do some household cleaning," he declared casually. "Yes, I killed them. I needed a little sport. Feels good, doesn't it, to hold someone's life in your hands, watching them pray, plead, beg, weep, unable to do anything about it. That, my friends, is the ecstasy of death, the ultimate power. Learn to enjoy it."

He sighed comfortably, sinking deeper into his chair. A large snake circled him, hissing.

"Oh yes, and next time you go out, Wormtail, bring back a muggle baby – Nagini wants one, she likes the taste of that tender flesh," he said, smiling at the snake. "Now, back to business."

The circle of Death Eaters straightened a little, most still tried to hide their unease.

"As you see, I am in a good mood," Voldemort stated lazily. "Yes, very good mood. Why? Because Harry Potter is dead. Understand? Dead."

There was a slight shuffle among the Death Eaters.

"How do I know? Common sense really. My Reaper was sent back to its own world, in doing so a human portal is needed, and poor Harry was the closest human it could find. It's a pity, however. Potter has talents, it would have been nice for him to join me. Do you know that our wands are brothers? Brother wands can do great things together, terrible things, yes, but great."

"I could have changed him. He was pliable, our dead little friend. There was so much hate in him, and so much power… ah, I'm growing sentimental, don't you think? Shame, really. But what's been done is done. I guess poor Harry was destined to die young, and only the good die young."

He inhaled deeply in satisfaction. The very warmth in the air seemed to drain away. The Death Eaters shivered.

"But your son, Lucius, your son is different. How is he?"

A hooded figure took a step forward, head bowed.

"Very well my lord, why?" Lucius Malfoy answered, his silky voice shaking slightly with nervousness.

Voldemort laughed chillingly.

"No my friend, don't be afraid. I mean your lovely son no harm. In fact, I believe that it's time to make him one of _us_. His information on Potter proved to be very valuable. In any case, it's time to have some new blood."

Malfoy looked stricken beneath the hood, large drops of sweat began to form on his forehead.

"My – my Lord, I believe that my son is too young for this honorable position. He doesn't know enough, if only you would give me a few years more my Lord, I'll train him, I'll – " His word were cut off as Voldemort raised his hand again, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Why Lucius? What are you truly afraid of? Do you fear that I might be defeated again and your son's future will be ruined?"

"NO! No my Lord! I have the utmost faith I was – I was simply voicing my doubt on my son's abiliti – " Malfoy stuttered.

"Don't. Lie. To me!" Voldemort's eyes flashed again. "I sense your thoughts as if it were mine. You do not doubt your son, you doubt me. All of you. You lack faith in your master. You think that if I have been defeated once, I can be defeated again. But you're right, I can be defeated again."

His voice dropped to a whisper. He stood up and looked around at the shivering figures around him.

"Yes… I suppose you're right. I do not deny my fears. I fear defeat. I fear humiliation. I fear death. During that period when I did not possess a physical body, countless times have I asked myself: why is it that the all of us who sought power eventually failed? Lord Grindelwalt, and myself – we are all contemporary examples. And countless times I have answered: may be it is because that none of us were meant to rule. May be tyranny is evil, and evil is doomed to fail while goodness triumphs."

Voldemort's eyes were closed as if lost in memories. The thoughtfulness made him more ghost-like in the flickering firelight.

"Here I stand, returned to power, and very much alive. But what have I learned from my failure? I shall tell you what I learned, that there is no such thing as good and evil. There is no such thing as justice. Only power matters. Why am I talking about this? Because everything – your doubts, my doubts – everything revolves around power.

"Yes, my friends, I guess the explanation is long over-due," Voldemort said, sitting down again and staring into the fire. "I've changed. The Dark Lord sixteen years ago would have killed you for your lack of faith, Lucius, but the Dark Lord now will not. I can not expect to go through death without change. I am different. I should not expect the same loyalty from you now that I have failed once. Very well, I shall prove to you, all of you, right here, right now, that I've changed. That I pocess a secret you can not even dream of."

"Stand up and take you your wands," Voldemort ordered. The Death Eaters stood up shakily, looking around at each other in confusion. "Yes, now, I want you to use the Avada Kedavra on me."

A shiver of shock ran around the circle. The Death Eaters looked at each other and at their lord, not understanding, not daring to understand.

"What? Is my command so difficult to enforce? Very well," Voldemort's voice raised in cold anger, he fixed his wand at the Death Eater nearest to him. "CRUCIO!"

The Death Eater crumbled onto the floor, writhing in pain. After a few seconds, Voldemort shifted his wand.

"Enough incentives? All of you, DO IT!" he roared. The flames in the fireplace shot up several feet. The room brightened and darkened again.

The tortured Death Eater was the first to react. He picked up his wand and shouted, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Immediately, all others followed suit. For a moment, Voldemort was bathed in green flames as jolts after jolts of green light poured into him. Within the dazzling green light, Nagini hissed at her master, circling him.

After a moment, the green light died away. The room was silent except the heavy panting of the Death Eaters. Voldemort sat stationary in his chair, his eyes closed. There wasn't a movement or sound from him, almost as if he were dead.

After a moment of nervous silence, somebody spoke.

"My – My Lord?" she asked silently. "My Lord, are you – are you – "

"I'm fine, Bella," Voldemort suddenly answered. A Death Eater gasped in surprise and quickly concealed the gasp in a series of coughing. "I'm fine."

"Well, my Death Eaters, what say you? A miracle, isn't it?" he laughed softly, looking pleased. "They say that Potter is the only wizard who survived the Killing Curse. Yes, an incredible feat, but your master survived a dozen Killing Curses. Don't speak Lucius – " he smiled chillingly. " – I know what you wish to ask – why was I able to accomplish this? Ah – this is one of the many side effects of being close to death and returning to life. Yes, I've brushed with death, but by returning, my life force doubled. But it wasn't being more alive that enabled me to survive the killing curse, it was my magic. I didn't know this. In fact, I didn't realize the potential of my power until I summoned the Reaper, after which I did some research. I learned that magic is stored in the soul, or channeled by the soul rather. When I was hit by the Killing Curse that rebounded off Potter, my soul was ripped from my body. I was little better than common ghosts, but at least my soul remained intact, this means that I preserved all my powers. When I regained my life, not only did I return with full power, the reserve of my magic is also unlocked. And this is what you get for surviving death."

Voldemort paused, twirling his wand playfully. Nagini slithered up his leg, resting her head in his lap. Voldemort caressed the cool skin with a finger.

"Ah – you want it don't you? A little patience my dear, we are nearly finished here," he gestured at the Death Eaters. "After that, we can resume our little game last time."

The Death Eaters looked at each other uneasily, they all knew what is meant by the "little game". Voldemort ignored them.

"So, that is enough explanation tonight. I hope this answers your doubts, Lucius, that your master still is, and ever will be, the most powerful wizard alive," he looked at Malfoy expectantly, who bowed. "Yes, very good. Now, I would like to have your son initiated as soon as possible, there are things I want to teach him. Don't worry Lucius, I liked Draco tremendously when I met him, now he will have the honor of being taught be Lord Voldemort personally."

Lucius Malfoy bowed his head again. "Thank you my Lord, it is an honor most would die for. I'm sure my son will appreciate it."

"Very good Lucius, that's the attitude," said Voldemort, nodding. "And please do extend my greetings to your wife – a very pleasant woman she is indeed."

Malfoy mumbled a "Thank you my Lord" again. He retreated into his place in the circle. The atmosphere in the room was different now – more confident, and everybody was impressed.

"Now, back to business. Bella, I want you to continue looking for Potter's body – this is a responsibility not to be taken lightly, as I can not take chances. Even though the possibility of him surviving is almost zero, I still need solid proof."

Bellatrix nodded deferentially.

"My key obstacle is removed now, or at least disabled. The chance to strike will arrive soon. From today on wards, we shall act more openly. The first target, my Death Eaters, is St Mungo's hospital."

Harry felt lightheaded. He lay silently for a moment, trying to remember where he was. The last thing he remembered was being ripped into pieces by the Reaper's power, and then there was that strange dream with his parents and Sirius…

Light exploded beyond his eyelids, stinging him, giving him a headache. Cold, monotonous electric light - Was he in a muggle house?

The next thing he registered was a smell – the smell of blood. Strangely, that bitter smell was comforting. The source of the smell was quiet close to him, he could almost sense the heat – fresh blood – the only warm thing in the room other than himself.

The mattress shifted slightly as someone sat down next to him. A hand reached down and touched his forehead gently. Harry winced at the touch – it was so cold, cold as death.

"It's about time you wake up," a voice commented dryly. The voice was soft and feminine. "You've slept for – how long is it – a month?"

His eyelids fluttered and flew open.

The room was out of focus for a moment, everywhere was blurred and shifting, as if the ceiling and the floor were merging into one. His head hurt so much that he had to shut his eyes again.

"Yes, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Open your eyes slowly," the voice instructed gently.

Harry reached out a hand and cupped his eyes tentatively. His arm felt as if it weighed a ton. He opened his eyes slightly and looked at the ceiling through the gaps of his fingers, after a moment, he removed his hand.

A girl was staring at him, her face unreadable. She was extremely pale – and her dark hair only made her look paler. But she was also beautiful, Harry realized with a pang, her face was, for the lack of a better word, perfect. When she stood up, there was a slightly out-of-place gracefulness to her movements, which he had never noted in a woman before. The strange girl reached out for a cup of what seemed to be water and a straw.

"Drink this, with the straw," she added. "Trust me, you won't even have the strength to lift up the cup. This potion should give your strength back."

Harry eyed the liquid suspiciously, his gaze moved up to the pale hand holding it. The hand, like the face, was deathly pale and radiated a coldness that seemed to freeze his blood.

"Drink it, come on!" the girl frowned. "If I mean to harm you, you would be dead a dozen times over by now, so just drink it."

Harry shrugged and sucked the straw. The liquid tasted bitter and burned in his throat. He felt it burning all the way down his stomach. Slowly but surely, he felt life in his arms and legs again.

The girl was studying him with interest. As Harry held her gaze, he realized that there seemed to be a purple ring around her pupils. She smiled charmingly at him then, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. Harry suddenly felt dizzy. In the back of his mind, he remembered a lesson in his third year, with Remus.

"You – you're a – " he suddenly felt completely awake. Jolts of fear were creeping up his spine. He reached out for his wand only to realize that he didn't know where it was.

"Yes, I'm a vampire," the girl declared casually, smiling. She reached for a glass of red liquid and took a zip. Blood, Harry realized. With fascination Harry watched her tongue licking around her lips.

"You left out a bit," pointed Harry at the corner of his lips. Her eyebrows shot up as she licked the drop of blood clean. Her tongue darting out and in again. It was a tantalizing sight.

"Aren't you afraid?" she asked softly, her eyes shining.

Harry pushed himself up so that he was leaning against his pillow. He shifted his eyes from the girl and studied the room. The room was small and richly decorated, with a TV in the corner and several squashy, comfortable looking armchairs along the wall. The window above the chairs was open, revealing the starry night beyond. The bedcover was made of silk with golden laces, and the walls were painted slightly red. The room was slightly girly looking, yet a little lifeless, as if all the furniture were for decorative purpose only.

"No, I'm not afraid," Harry answered eventually, turning back to look at the Vampire girl. "The worst you can do to me is kill me, and frankly, I don't really care."

The girl smiled, sitting back. "Really? What if I torture you?" she asked.

Harry snorted, he suddenly realized that the transparent glasses Silvia gave him was gone, but he was seeing things all right. In fact, his eyesight had never been better. It seemed that he could even see the faint outlines of the trees outside.

"Believe me, after what I went through, I doubt you could come up with a more painful torture."

The girl laughed softly again, her eyes tracing the faintly visible artery on his neck. She swallowed hungrily.

"Oh, you're irresistible. I can feel that powerful heart beat from here, and I can imagine sucking you dry," she purred, pinching Harry's arm slightly. "But guess what? I've decided I like you. Anyway I've been meaning to find an interesting mortal to talk with for the last three hundred years, and you're the most fascinating one so far."

"That's good news," Harry shrugged. The girl interested him as well, he admitted inwardly. There is something exotic about her wild mane of hair, her strangely shining eyes and even the way she was zipping the glass of blood. As for her being a Vampire, well, that only makes this whole encounter more interesting.

"That's very good news," he repeated in a whisper, giving her a crooked smile. The girl's face tightened in surprise for a second, and then she smiled back at him.

"Well, first of all, Harry Potter - " she responded in a equally chilling whisper, " – welcome, to the House of Blood."

"What do you mean by ambushed?" Dumbledore asked urgently, half rising from his chair. His hands clutched a piece of parchment tightly.

A disheveled Tonks was standing in front of the Headmaster's table. Her hair was light brown this time. Her dark Auror's robe was muddy and ripped. There was a large gash on her left arm that was still dripping blood.

"Yes, ambushed, Albus. I was on patrol duty with a group of Aurors outside St. Mungo's, suddenly came a dozen Dementors. Dalila Stead fainted straight away, and the rest of us managed to summon several Patronus, but then Death Eaters Apparated into the scene. I think Lucius Malfoy was one of them - I caught sight of his blond hair. That Macnair guy was also there. I told Derek to Apparate to the Ministry for back up, and we managed to hold them off for a few minutes. When reinforcement arrived the Death Eaters just left," Tonks explained, her heart-shaped face tired and smudged with mud. "We had no warning at all."

"And St Mungo's?"

"St Mungo's was fine. I told you, the Death Eaters simply left, like it was a game for them or something, but we lost six men. But Albus, how did this happen? We were fully alert, how could they still surprise us? And how did they find out where St Mungo's truly is in the first place?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes softened as he watched the young woman's distressed face.

"Voldemort's has resources, my dear. He knows his world more than anyone else. It's like last time. They're simply testing our defense. Voldemort likes it this way. He's telling us he wants St Mungo's, and we can't stand in his way," he muttered, half to himself. "You go and get some rest Tonks, and you should get that cut looked at, it seems to be bleeding badly. Thank you for informing me this."

Tonks nodded back and left. Dumbledore walked to the fireplace and grabbed some Floo Powder from a vase.

"Silvia's office," he said in a clear voice. A moment later, Silvia's graceful face appeared between the flames.

"What's wrong Albus?" she asked, puzzled. "I've got the fifth year Gryffindors coming in soon."

Dumbledore sighed as he reached up a hand to massage his neck gently. "Tonks and some other Aurors have been ambushed near St Mungo's."

Silvia's mouth opened in shock, her face paled.

"Is she alright? Nymph is not hurt, is she?" she asked urgently.

Dumbledore shook his head, "No, she's fine, but I fear that this is a distraction. Voldemort may expect me to send reinforcement to St Mungo's while he attacks Hogwarts in secret. Distraction or no, I'll get Kingsley to go. I also need you to put up Shields on the gates and windows and set up some Dark Art detecting spells there if possible."

Silvia nodded grimly. "Of course, I'm sorry to hear that Albus, this is the first surprise we've received from Voldemort this year," she paused, listening to something. "But how was it possible? I thought you've set up wards around vital places like St Mungo's? How did the Death Eaters get around it?"

Dumbledore shifted on the floor to get a better position. "That is exactly what I'm wondering here. I half expected an attack on St Mungo's. Last time the hospital was completely demolished and we had to move patients into the school infirmary. Now we are in exactly the same situation as last time. In the war our only advantage has been Harry, with him gone, Voldemort has nothing to fear."

Silvia nodded grimly. "Yes, I see what you mean. Maybe I should go with Mad Eye and put up more ward – I have to go, students are coming."

"That would be grand," he smiled sadly as Silvia's face disappeared.

Dumbledore sighed deeply as he sat back behind his table, surveying the stacks of parchments before him. He bowed his head to his work, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. He listened to the monotonous clicking from the little silver mechanisms, staring emptily, then pushed his chair back from the table. What would Harry be doing, if he were still alive? The old man wondered sadly. His power had been steadily increasing, by now Harry should have surpassed himself. Dumbledore smiled bitterly. One hundred and fifty eight years he had lived, passed a similar trial of his own against Grindelwalt, yet now, when the same danger emerges, he could do nothing about it.

Outside, it was starting to rain.

For several days now he had worked with the ministry preparing a defense for the Wizarding world and Hogwarts in particular – a defense that had proved useless today. Time was slipping away from them. Voldemort had all the advantage now – time, power, surprise. For the first time, the Headmaster realized how important Harry was. Although he was never directly involved, Harry had been the only thing Voldemort was wary of, the only person that could banish the Dark Lord's most powerful weapon, fear.

It was no good depending on Harry now, Dumbledore realized as he stared into the rain. However painful the though, he knew he must accept the fact that Harry Potter was most likely to be dead, and the prophecy was wrong. Owls had been sent to retired Aurors, calling them back at least to provide some fighting experiences. The two most capable groups of Aurors, the several dozen under Kingsley Shacklebolt's command and Mad-Eye Moody's old team, were all stationed in Hogwarts ready to fight. Even the Ministry, however corrupt and disorganized it might be, had doubled the rate of Auror enrollment and dispatched a group of security trolls to guard Hogsmeade. Yet Dumbledore knew that these preparations for sure would not be enough once the battle began. Voldemort's Death Eaters were more numerous, and generally better trained. Furthermore, they had the help of all kinds of dark creatures – mostly giants, maybe even dragons. The Headmaster harbored no illusions – they will lose the war, unless someone powerful, someone with the gift of leadership arrives. He had once hoped that the Boy Who Lived would grow up into such a man, but as he feared the burden of the prophecy and the temptation of power had been too great. The boy changed too much. Even if he survived the battle with the Reaper, he still wasn't ready to take over the Order of the Phoenix. No, Dumbledore had to be the leader like he had been once. He would have to fight Harry's battle and take his place. If he didn't, Voldemort would destroy them all.

The old wizard smiled wanly. _How long had it been - fifty-two years?_ The forced smile lingered on his face. _Too long._ It had been half a century ago when he defeated Grindelwalt, since then, he never had to awaken so much power, not even during his previous encounters with Voldemort. Dumbledore stood up from his seat and walked to a hidden compartment in his office, rolling up his sleeves. The compartment looked like a large battered cavern. A thousand years ago Godric Gryffindor stood in the same room and unleashed a burst of magic that would have made Merlin proud. Dumbledore smiled at the memory, he had read story often enough.

The Headmaster closed his eyes, semi-bending his knees. Gradually, the air around him heated up as an aura of raw power radiated from him. His long beard and hair began to bellow with the wind. Chips of rocks broke off from the surrounding walls and whirled around him like tornado. Dumbledore let his magic to be awakened, feeling the burning energy reviving his ancient cells. Soon, beads of sweat began to drip of his brow.

Dumbledore opened his eyes slowly. He peered over his half-moon glasses. The room seemed more focused, and there was a life force within him that hadn't been felt for fifty years. The air cooled down and Dumbledore straightened up. A large piece of chocolate was what he needed now. He had no doubt that the ceiling in the Great Hall had flickered, as he had just unlocked all his power. He wondered what Minerva would say when she finds out what he did, messing with his life force like that.

Chuckling, Albus Dumbledore left his office for dinner, walking in what he felt was a confident way.

"So, tell me about your life then," Vivien asked as she slumped casually on a couch and resumed gargling with a sip of water.

Harry, on the other hand, was not sitting so idly on his bed. He had just witnessed the most uncomfortable scene in his life – a vampire feeding. The eternally young Vampire girl didn't have a clue what subtlety meant. Even if she did, she simply refused to show any to Harry. Her victim this night was a handsome, raven-haired and bespectacled boy similar to his age. She had kissed him first, her hands roaming free in his pants. The boy moaned with pleasure, staring emptily ahead. Then she injected her fangs into his neck and feasted on his blood, all the while keeping her eyes on Harry. What disgusted him even more was the fact that he was fascinated by the whole show, especially the expression of pure ecstasy on her face. She didn't kill the boy. She had explained to Harry that she liked to give her victims some pleasure before taking their blood, as payment. In any case they wouldn't remember the encounter anyway.

At least she rarely killed anyone. Vivian just sat there, curled up languidly with her head attached to the boy's neck, the way the thin, half-transparent pajama pants clung to her legs and bottom leaving very little room for imagination. Secretly, Harry couldn't help but wonder if a blowjob from her was too much in exchange for a messy half-death.

"Come on, tell me something," she pleaded after spitting the water into a golden cup.

Harry only found out her name after asking for it four times, when he said, "are you so cool that I don't even get to know your name?" She glared at him in disgust and told him that her name was Vivien. Apparently, Harry had forced her to break a strange rule she made - during her relatively "short" vampire life, she pledged to never impart her name to any mortal other than a victim.

"I have to _suck_ you dry now …" she joked. The look in her eyes made his flesh tingle.

Vivien was an interesting person, Harry decided. Vampires definitely had a psychic influence over human, very much in the way Veelas did. Vivien gave him a lofty feeling as if he was living in an erotic dream. He didn't try to fight it, because he loved the feeling too much. In some ways she reminded him of Ginny Weasley during his fifth, who was open and outgoing to him then, as Vivien was now. The Vampire was also stunningly beautiful and did everything to show it. She claimed to look more "mortal" after drinking fresh blood and tried to prove so by posing nude for Harry, who felt rotten for being aroused. She had laughed at his blushing face, telling him that he smelled good, like a powerful wild beast, and that he must have _tasted_ good too.

As if he wanted to know.

"Well, which part do you want to know?" Harry asked after thinking for a moment.

Vivien twisted into a lying position on the couch, running a long, pale finger alone her perfect thigh. Her flesh indeed looked luminous after drinking blood. Harry felt his mouth go dry. She was aware of this effect on him as she gave him a sly glance.

"Well, is your life interesting?" she said with a raised eyebrow. "By the way, I know what you're thinking. Just to let you know: last mortal who touched me I bled him dry. But I might exclude you from that fate."

Harry swallowed. He had been imagining running a hand along that pale, smooth skin. Some how, Vivien managed to guess his mind.

"Well," he forced himself to answer, thinking about Voldemort, the Reaper and the betrayal he suffered through. All these experience appeared insignificant to him now that he had died once. Pondering these matters made him chuckle – how ironic it was to come back from death only to be surrounded by a bunch of undead.

"Well, I wouldn't say my life is interesting, but it is certainly complicated, very complicated."

Vivien gazed at him unblinkingly through her strange eyes, "Yeah, I could tell that," she whispered. "Er – how do they say it now days? Yeah - fire away then, since I looked after you cute little ass for a month, I deserve some stories. Start from the beginning. We've got all the time in the world. Or I do at least."

Harry raised an eyebrow at this eccentric liking for stories but chose not to comment. He considered a moment, ordering his memories.

"Well, once upon a time," he began, thinking of the fairy tales he found on Dudley's bookshelf. "There was a boy, they called him the Boy Who Lived – "

" – and the Boy Who Lived was, is and still will be Harry Potter," she interrupted, smiling. "You really know how to make a story interesting, don't you?"

Harry gave her a mysterious smile and continued.

"And so the story begins… "

For the next few hours, Harry recounted his life story to the girl, starting from the moment Voldemort failed to kill him. Vivien's facial expression barely changed as she listened quietly, but there was a spark of warmth in her eyes that was reserved just for him.

"So, what do you think?" Harry asked as he finished describing his battle with the Reaper. His stomach groaned loudly, pleading for food.

Vivien surveyed him calmly for a moment; her face broke into a small smile. She closed her eyes with an expression of concentration, and then she continued to scrutinize him.

"Well, you're more interesting than I thought, Harry Potter," she gave him a lopsided grin. "I almost feel sorry for you, and that's saying something as I rarely feel compassion for mortals."

Harry didn't know what to make out of this comment, so he decided to stay quiet. His stomach gave another groan. He blushed, looking away in embarrassment.

"Hey, that's nothing to be ashamed of!" Vivien commented. "You've eaten nothing for the last month; of course you'd be hungry. Don't worry, food is on its way."

Harry was suddenly alarmed – food, she doesn't mean blood does she?

"No," she said wryly. "Duh! I'm not going to force you drink blood, it would be such a waste, you don't even know how to appreciated it. No, I'm getting you some greasy oily unhealthy disgusting repulsive mortal food."

Harry sighed in relief, looking out of the window at the night sky before another question struck him.

"How is it that you know what I'm thinking about all the time?" he asked.

Vivien looked surprised. She straightened into a sitting position. Harry caught sight of what was under her miniskirt - he choked in surprise and embarrassment – she was wearing nothing.

The Vampire ignored this last reaction and seemed to consider his question for a moment.

"Well, I guess you don't know much about us vampires. I'll tell you about us while you eat – since you told me such a good story."

At this moment, someone knocked on the door. Before Harry could say "come in", a servant entered with a trolley. Harry was relieved to see that he was a normal person, a middle aged man. The man bowed at Vivien and placed plates of food on the bedside table. Without a word of acknowledgment towards Harry, he left. Harry frowned after him.

"Don't worry about him, Harry," Vivien answered, shifting to look at his food. "He was an orphan, my father raised him. He's mute and deaf."

"How do you speak to him then?" Harry asked as he pushed himself towards his food. There were sautéed mushroom caps with roasted peppers, roast chicken legs, a salad of wild greens, a loaf of bread and several cans of coke. There was also a crystal bottle filled with reddish liquid that didn't really look like wine.

"Huh? We don't _speak_ to him, more like – telepath to him," she answered, examing his food. "Yeuch, garlic," she said disdainfully, sniffing at is roast chicken and poking it with a fork.

"So Vampires don't like garlic, right?" he mumbled through a mouthful of chicken. Vivien gave him a look of disgust and opened the crystal bottle, sniffing it.

"Obviously!" she put down the bottle and took out a crystal glass. "Vampires are allergic to garlic, although it couldn't really do anything to us. Mostly we just avoid eating them. Same reason you mortals avoid drinking blood."

She poured some blood into the glass and dipped a finger into it. "Mmm…" she murmured, licking the finger.

Harry forced himself not to look at her and turned to his own food.

"What about the crucifix? I was told that Vampires can't bear to look on them," he asked, eager to know more about the undead.

Vivien sipped her glass of blood. "Nah, that's just superstition. Why should we be afraid of crosses? The only thing fatal to us is sunlight and fire. But then, the oldest of us, like my father, could resist even sunlight for a few hours. And you would need a blast furnace to burn him," she seemed amused by Harry's genuine curiosity.

Harry glanced at a clock hanging on the wall. It was three o'clock in the morning and he didn't feel sleepy at all.

"So how did you become a vampire?" he asked, unable to resist.

Vivien was about to take a drink from her glass. She paused, putting it down. Her expression became distant.

"It was three centuries ago. I was a normal witch then, a pureblood. I didn't go to school, rich young ladies like us weren't expected to be educated like that. I had a tutor, she taught me everything I needed to know to become a normal housewife. My father wanted me to marry – not this father, my blood father, he wanted me to marry a pureblood duke."

Her voice was soft; she stared emptily before her, lost in memories.

"I didn't want that life. I guess I was too advanced for my time. I didn't belong to it. I hated my parents and their pureblood mania, so I ran away," she chuckled softly. "I was really naive then, didn't know a thing about money and stuffs. I went to pubs when I'm hungry and demanded people to provide food for me. I was lucky, the people, muggles mostly, pitied me and provided for me. I didn't have a clue where I wanted to go; I guess I wished to lead an exotic life in the wilderness, like a princess of nature."

Harry was too absorbed to eat. He put done his fork and retreated to the warmth of his bed, hugging his knees to him.

"My luck ended there. I was caught by a group of bandits and sold to a brothel, not after getting rapped first. I lived two years of my life there, until I was sixteen. Actually, I wasn't treated badly. I was better looking than the rest of the sisters so they sort of honored me for it. My customers were all young, rich aristocrats. But I hated that life as well; it was living hell for me. I became ill. I refused to eat and drink and I tried to kill anyone who approached. I think I was mad."

Her voice trailed off. She smiled bitterly and gulped down all the blood at once.

"I couldn't do magic, I didn't have my wand and I didn't know many spells anyway. But weird things began to happen around me. All the mirrors and windows would crack at once, for example, and sometimes I could set an entire room on fire. The others believed that I was possessed by the devil, they tried to kill me. But whoever that tired to harm me would get blasted away from me, a bit like the Expelliarmus curse nowadays. In the end they decided to bury me alive."

"I remember that day, every detail of it. The colour of the dress I was wearing – it was kind of orange, but dirty orange since I wore the same one for months. They forced me into a coffin and nailed it shut. I was screaming like a banshee, kicking biting and scratching everyone, everything I see. I didn't know where I got the strength from, but the coffin shattered when I banged my head on it. I had blood flowing down my face where slivers of wood punctured my skin. Then someone knocked my on the head with a shovel and I passed out."

"I awoke to find myself submerged in darkness. I reached out and my hand hit something hard. I writhed and twisted and turned within the confinement of the coffin but I couldn't get out. I screamed and screamed; I scratched the wood until my nails were rubbed off and my hands were bleeding. The more I struggled, the quicker I used up the air. It was a strange feeling. I knew I was dying, I could feel it. There was a pressure in my brain, pressing my head as if it wanted to get out. My lungs felt uncomfortable and no matter how hard I gasp it seemed that I couldn't breathe in enough air. I couldn't see and I couldn't hear. The only thing I could smell was the acrid taste of my sweat, stale air and my stinking clothes. I don't know how long I lay like that. I thought I was dead but I couldn't be sure. Then I heard it…"

She broke off, a small smile spread across her face.

"Heard what?" Harry whispered, staring intently at her.

"My father," Vivien responded softly. Harry didn't think she meant her blood father. "He came to me, he dug out my coffin and freed me from my confinements. But I was dying and he knew it, so that night he turned me into a vampire. He never told me why. He bled me almost dry and then nourished me with his blood. It was an intense feeling, drinking his blood. I've had two years worth of sexual experience but I've never felt so much passion. Don't get me wrong, I never loved him that way, but the desire is always there, I couldn't deny it. It's like that with us Vampires – you'll always have a strange connection with the one who made you. Each sip of blood he took from me brought me one step closer to hell; each time he returned me his blood, he dragged my back to life. It's that ecstasy of life and death I loved; it was that feeling which aroused me in a way no mortal man had done before."

"That was my last dawn. I've never seen the sun since then. And the next night was my first hunt. I remember that too. He brought to me a little girl, barely five years old. He told me to start with someone small and tender. He showed me where to bite and how to draw blood. He told me how to manipulate the flimsy mortal heart with the vast mind power that comes with vampirism. "You enjoy the feeling, I know it," he had said. "Now do to this mortal what I have done to you, so that you may feel the ecstasy again." And of course, I obeyed. I looked into the girl's eyes and I saw into her mind. There was nothing but fear there. I told her in my wordless way that everything was all right. I watched those large brown eyes relax and soften. She hugged me, exposing her tender neck for me. I could feel the slow but rhythmical heartbeat matching mine; I could sense the heat radiated from her, I could almost taste the sweet scent of blood on my tongue as I kissed her lips. But I couldn't do it."

"No, I realized then that I simply couldn't win her trust and take her life. I paused, swallowing back my desire. My father sighed as if he knew what I was thinking, he took the little girl's hand and led her away from me. To where? I didn't know. I stood there staring into the night until he came back before dawn. He told me that my mind had been too damaged, that I wasn't ready to take the gift of immortality yet. He put me to sleep then, burying me back to the sacred soil from which I stepped away from death forever. He told me that one day, when the time was ripe, when a new age dawns, I would feel life in me again. Until then, I had to rest in this dreamless slumber."

"I awoke twenty years ago. You see, when a vampire sleeps, he doesn't simply pass out of consciousness. Rather he could hear and feel everything happening around him. For three hundred years I lay dormant, listening to and learning the changes taking a place around me. Empires rise and fall, heroes born and die, everything had a beginning and an end, but I survived and I lived on. I chose to return to life now, because time has changed. We are in a different age, with different magic. Everything is different enough for me to start again. I guess it took three hundred years for my madness to pass, but now I feel life in me again. I am one of the Undead, it's time for me to enjoy immortality."

"I called out to my father with my mind, and he came to me again. He dug me out like he had done during that fateful night. "You're awake then," he said simply. He brought me to the House of Blood afterwards and introduced me to his servants as his daughter. He gave me the name Vivien and I've been what I am for the last twenty years."

Her narrative ended. Vivien's voice throughout had hardly risen higher than a soft whisper; there had been no exclamation of any kind, even now her face showed no change. She sat still, her eyes locked with Harry's. The last few drops of blood in the crystal vial changed from bright crimson to dark red, a little like Harry's no longer fizzy coke.

He could see desire in her eyes, and he was a little alarmed that the desire seemed to be targeted towards him. Her eyes burned into his, and he felt a tingling sensation in his third leg.

It was a bond of trust. He didn't need to be told, he knew, instinctively, that Vivien didn't just share her life's story with anyone.

The vampire smiled at him, half playful, half serious. He smiled back.

They kept their gazesupon each other for the rest of that night.

* * *

Theboss996  
thanks! Rahul

hi! i promise i'll finish it this time. it'd be really great if you can send me the original chapter 19. im stuck on it right now. no matter what i do, it just doesn't fit.

Jedi Padfoot  
thanks! my story loves you too! harrypotterfan89  
thanks! James Evans

Evil Boggart would like to inform Mr. Evans that he can break through any shields and and wards. in fact,EvilBoggart has just hexed Mr. Evans. MrEvans's nose won't stop flowing.

LegalAlien1  
thanks! i'm really glad that you liked it. darkgryffin  
thanks! your nameand my black phoenix match! Honorable thanks! bandgsecurtiyaw  
thanks! Junky  
harry opened a portal in himself, so the demon basicallyjumped into him. right now, the demon's consciousness is gone, but all its power is stuck in side Harry, who either has to digest all that power, or explode. this is where the phoenix comes in. Half of the demon's power were used to fill in that vacuum the phoenix left in him, another half became the phoenix's dinner. jbfritz  
thanks! harry rukes thanks! im still trying to work outa timetable. i think i'll stick to one chapter a week. MeaghanPotter  
poor them... but you won't see them together for a while. i'm sorry Sweetie813  
there goes the chapter... ckk  
no prob! thanks alot!Acerbus  
thanks! firetiger

lol... of course Ginny will be involved in Harry's sex life... not now though. in this story, Ginny is not a virgin. I don't want harry to screw up, so he needs to get some experience first.

Apocalypse19  
2006-01-30  
ch 17, reply 

not really. that night when Moldy tried to kill him, the curse reflected back. Harry never died. it was voldy that survived death. i never read the interviews... but the eye thing makes sense... maybe ill try to get some of that in!

my note should have explained why the vamps are here. hopefully the vamps won't be a problem for you. you're right, they did just pop in. i never planned them.

what's syntax? i must sound really stupid not knowing things like this, butin my defence: english is not my first language. maybe you can give me a short grammar lesson!

thanks for the great (i.e. constructive) review.

wizardmon92  
lol imgonnadie  
sure... ohmygoditsapretnel  
2006-01-30  
ch 17, anon. well... i kinda want Ginny to start fucking every boy in sight, you know, as a way to forget Harry. it makes her sound more bitchy. i have a soft spot for her, and i'm trying to change that. Ron, on the other hand, is just an asshole. i never liked him. in fact, i never liked the Weasley family except the twins. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen **

**The Cursed Ones**

**AN: I'm very very sorry for the late update. I've been desperately busy. First I need to help out at my dad's company, then I had a stupid 11-page essay on industrial location ... plus, i recently got addicted to beer. life really sucks... **

**anyway, i should be able to update more frequently from now on.**

**so, as you will soon realise, i've made a lot of changes in chapter 19 - it's a combination of the original and my new version. (A big THANK YOU to rahul-chat: if you hadn't send me a copy of the original chapter 19, i might still be struggling.) **

**anyway, enjoy. **

Vivien slept in Harry's bed that day. They had talked all night until the first ray of the sun pierced through the heavy rain clouds. The windows of the mansion sealed themselves automatically against the deadly daylight.

The vampire girl yawned and stretched her body like a cat. She then burrowed her way into the sheets, naked. When her skin touched his, Harry shivered. She was so cold, the very air around her seemed to freeze, yet she managed to ignite in flame in him never felt before. It consumed him, filling him with endless devious thoughts; he yearned to touch her pale skin and to kiss those cold lips. He suddenly remembered Ginny, and how he had felt each time he was close to her. That had been passion, and this was lust.

It was getting unbearable. All of his most fundamental needs as a teenage boy had been awakened within him, wiggling like a juicy worm towards his nether region. His throat burned, his heart beat increased. It was costing him all his will power not to loose control.

Why, why on earth was she affecting him so much?

_Potter._

Did he just hear someone call his name?

_Potter!_

There was something familiar about this. He remembered now. It was that voice again. It sounded strange, alien, he thought. But then, every part of him felt strange to him, as if the body was never his own.

_Who are you? _He never asked this question before. He never had the chance.

_Do you really want to know? _The voice whispered. Harry pictured it examining his imaginary nails in a rather scornful manner. _You might not like the answer. _

_Tell me. _

_Fine, you asked for this. I am you. _

_Yeah, like that helped. _

_You are _so _stupid. Don't you remember? Voldemort possessed you last year in the Department of Mysteries. Do you really believe you came out of that unscratched? _

He suddenly felt a flicker of understanding within him, but couldn't put his finger on it. Beside him, Vivian murmured in her sleep. She rolled over. Harry caught sight of her breasts crushed against the bed … Rather a distracting view …

_Focus, Potter. I don't have long. _

_Ok, continue then. _

_Well, when Voldemort possessed you, he left a part of his soul in you. You inherited parts of his memories, parts of his personality, and even parts of his power. _

Harry took this bit of news rather glumly. He could picture how he would have reacted two month ago. He would have thrown a tantrum, and then lock himself away from civilization for weeks, believing himself evil, unclean.

He wasn't going to do that now though, not when everything seemed so insignificant to him. He did survive death yet again, which was a life-shaping experience. In fact, he was more attractedby the soft shadows before him than what the voice was saying. He watched the outlines of furniture as he wondered to himself. Was he able to see in the dark?

_Harry! I'm serious here. Voldemort's soul has been growing inside you for months. In a normal wizard, by now he should have taken shape and possessed the carrier. You're not normal, however. You are very powerful – powerful enough to merge Voldemort's soul with yours – _

The voice paused. When it returned, it was weaker than before.

_My time is running short. We need to be quick now. You are fundamentally different to Tom Riddle, therefore his essence can never coexist with yours. That's why I was created. Your magic took some of your life to contain Voldemort's influence. I was that container. I'm your subconscious personified, therefore I was never truly alive._

The whisper continued.

_Yet I can think what you think, feel what you feel. I can reason, deduct, I have a mind even though I can't see. I know something happened to you sometimes ago. I don't know what. There was a surge of power, it completely overwhelmed you. Whatever that power was, it's stronger than Voldemort's residual influence and your magic combined. Both have been purged to merge into something alien, and it's stored right here, in your soul. _

The voice flickered. Harry was unable to speak.

_With whatever Voldemort left in you gone, my existence no longer has a purpose. Your body – or your magic rather – is destroying me. NO – Don't interrupt. I'm not a person, so technically you haven't killed me. For the last few days, when your were in a coma, I had access to your memories, and I found something interesting. _

Another flicker. It was hard to hear the whisper now.

_Voldemort is immortal. So are you now. You've both died. He survived the Killing Curse – no, not in the way you did. The curse never hit you. It was deflected by your mother's love. It was different for him. He took the curse and lived. Voldemort is the one who truly through the Avada Kedavra. But you're also unique in a similar way. You've died once as well. Whatever happened to you, you've died and your magic brought you back to life. The two of you defied death, so you are truly immortal now. Your body will age, but your soul will linger on for an eternity. My point is – it's hard kill Voldemort now. You can destroy his body, but not his soul. _

Harry tried to speak. Again the voice sealed his mouth shut.

_I'm leaving now. Remember – don't do anything to Voldemort until you've figured out how to destroy a soul. You have one chance, Harry, one chance …_

The voice was cut off, leaving only an echoing emptiness behind.

Harry suddenly felt a wave of loneliness wash over him. He missed that voice. Although he didn't fully comprehend what that voice said to him, but he missed it all the same.

At that moment, another thought struck to him. He suddenly wondered if Dumbledore knew what was happening to him, or if Silvia did. If Voldemort really did leave a bit of his soul behind, well, then he couldn't really blame them for being alarmed and suspicious of him. He probably behaved weird at the time.

He knew he should feel angry – Dumbledore had just concealed yet another vital piece of information from him, one that could have cost his life. But all he felt was an ongoing emptiness. He remembered none of the old anger, bitterness and frustration. His past seemed so insignificant – his friendship with Ron and Hermione, Silvia … all seemed so trivial to him. It was as the voice said, he had survived death. Nothing will be the same ever again.

But two faces haunted him. One was Voldemort. His hatred of the Dark Lord will never subside, neither in life nor in death. The other face was Ginny's.

Thinking of Ginny, he glanced guiltily at Vivien. She was sleeping with a contented smile. The sheet clung to her curves in the most interesting way that tempted him to touch it.

Why did the she have to torture him so much? He thought, and the guilty feeling shattered instantly.

Why should he feel guilty? There was nothing between him and Ginny but a growing attraction, one that she spat to his face when she cast the Cruciatus on him. Harry knew the Cruciatus curse well enough to understand how much hatred one must put behind it, and Ginny's curse had been particularly strong that night.

He wasn't angry, only disappointed. They trust him so little, even Ginny. Why, he wondered, why should he protect them anymore?

The answer came immediately, and he didn't like it.

_If not protecting those you love, what other reason do you have to live? _

He ignored himself, and fell asleep.

Two hours later Harry woke up with a burning headache.

It was pain beyond pain - very much like the pain he had felt when the demon entered his body. Black flame poured out of him, consuming him, yet the mattress remained unharmed. Liquid cool flames twirled around him. Within him, he felt a tingle.

A small, black bird popped its head from imaginary ashes, peering at him reproachfully. Flame exploded from the tiny body as he watched the Black Phoenix grow.

It was different from what he remembered.

Before, there seemed to be an invisible barrier between them. The phoenix lived within him, yet they were apart. Now, however, they were one. It was as if the phoenix had merged with his soul.

Harry could no longer see it. The phoenix was gone, replaced by emptiness. He once was able to look into his own mind like looking into a mirror, but now he saw nothing. He could only feel a new sensation, strangely familiar, tickling his every emotion.

Instinctively, he knew that he was ready to transform. He closed his eyes and pictured his arms transforming into wings.

Nothing happened. His arms were still arms. All he could do was to make the blazing black flame burn harder, twirling like a tornado. He concentrated again. This time what he saw was a supernova of flame, but he was still unable to change.

What's the use of a flame that doesn't burn? He thought, frustrated.

There was no way he could sleep again. He climbed up gently, trying his best not to wake Vivien. There was really no need. The vampire girl slept like dead, oblivious to the smothering darkness that had tinged the room. In fact, as Harry tested by sticking a finger under her nose, she wasn't breathing.

_Interesting,_ he thought, _vampires don't sleep. They die._

He found a pile of silky shirts and pants prepared for him in the wardrobe, washed to the point of bone white. His eyes scanned the dark as if it was in daylight, then he noticed a pair of slippers next to the bed.

So night vision was another strange power he gained, heobserved wryly. If he kept getting pleasant surprises like this, maybe dying once was worth it.

The House of Blood was a mansion. The main hall itself was like a stone coffin, with two wings on the northern and southern sides. A regular cube of stone, the main hall towered into the sky. There was no ceiling from the inside, only a looming, perpetual darkness that seemed to swallow any light reached there. Stairs were attached to the walls, spiraling upwards endlessly. Along each level of the stair there were doors. Some opened, so did not.

That's where Harry was right now, leaning against the marble parapet looking down at what seemed to be a common room massive enough to hold a hundred people at the base of the tower. He was so high up that he felt dizzy.

It wasn't merely the structure of the house or the size of it that impressed him. It was the decorations. Curtains hang down from the parapets, silky, dark red curtains that reminded him of dripping blood. Everything was in dark red or black, everything from the archaic armchairs and tables that littered the hall to the walls and doorways. There was no privacy in this place; everything was so open, exposed. There were no corridors or even corners in the building, and everywhere he ventured, gruesome portraits followed him with hungry eyes.

What unnerved him was the amount of vampires that lived here. They were everywhere: sitting in the couches sleeping or speaking quietly; entering and exiting the rooms in a seemingly random pattern, or drawing magical paintings of each other. This was day time, when most Vampires slept. He couldn't imagine what night must be like.

The two wings were even more disturbing. They were two, smaller towers with structure like the hall, but mirroring each other completely. Walking from one to the other was like walking into a reflection, everything was the same, but arranged in opposite direction.

Even though the mansion was crowded, Harry felt a dreary loneliness. Nobody talked to him or even glanced at him all day, none of the pale faces showed any acknowledgment to the only mortal among them, not even attracted by the pulsing fresh blood.

_They were like a group of old men._ Harry thought, _each with young faces, all waiting silently to die._ They weren't immortal. Their souls were dead.

Vivien was awake when he returned to her room. The room was lit, the bricks that sealed the window removed; moonlight poured in, clashing and merging with the pale death-like radiance of the fluorescent lamp. Vivien was fully clothed now, although she still wore that almost transparent, feathery material which hid nothing of the beauty beneath. Her face was impassive, but when he looked at her, there was a spark within those strange, greenish purple eyes. She was drinking blood again.

A man was leaning on the window frame, also staring at him. Unlike Vivien, however, he didn't look forcedly alive. His skin was radiant, almost waxy and glowing. He seemed ageless. While looking like a middle-aged man, he didn't have the time-withered furrows on his brow, or any faint wrinkles on his skin. His face was expressionless, but a small smile was tugging at his lips, and his eyes were flickering with interest.

His eyes ...it was his eyes that fascinated Harry as well as alarmed him. Vivien's eyes were dazzling enough, but this man's eyes seemed to draw him in the moment he looked into them. They were deep and unfathomable, but there seemed to be a light in the depth of them, almost as if the pitch-black pupils were a pair of endless tunnels leading to another world, a world beyond death. Harry was exhilarated as he went deeper and deeper into the abyss, wondering about what kind of surprise waited on the other side.

_STOP THIS! _A part of him yelled. Harry shook himself awake and glared at the man, not quite meeting his eyes again.

Hechuckled.

"Why, Harry Potter, why do you think of me in terms of a _man_," he asked lightly in a deep, magnetic voice that reverberated in Harry's ears and made his skin tingle. It was the kind of voice that appeared from nowhere and everywhere, rich enough to make a person melt.

"I am no man." He continued. "I haven't been a man since two thousand years ago, when I departed from life forever to walk the lonely path of immortality."

He glided slowly to the couch and took the glass from Vivien's hand. In deliberate slowness he poured for himself some blood and sipped it, savoring the taste with his eyes closed.

"I am Viktor, Vivien's Vampire father," he glanced at the immortal girl with a small smile. "I see you two are getting on well."

Harry choked a little; To be honest, he was a little baffled by the vampire. The man had a kind of dark and feral grace that was slightly foreboding, yet at the same time.

"I guess Vivien has said the same thing," Viktor continued, flashing his deep gaze. "You interest me. While it is fascinating to observe a mortal fighting a mental battle with himself, it isn't everyday to see someone defeating their personal demon by sheer strength of will. I felt your _lust_ even as you slept, and felt how you resisted. You are also the first wizard since Grindelwalt to resist the temptation of falling into my gaze. I am impressed."

Harry didn't know what to make of this comment. The situation was alarmingly similar to when he first met Vivien. Apparently, this whole family of vampires had the habit of speaking cryptically with an over emphasis on dramatic effect..

"Who is it, may I ask," he gave him a curious but penetrating glance, "that haunted your dreams with fear?"

"Voldemort," he said blandly. No need to elaborate. There was no doubt that Viktor knew.

Viktor smiled coolly, taking a step towards the door. He held out a long, ice-cold finger and traced slowly the outline of lightening shape of his scar. Surprisingly, it felt good.

"I see you've met my scar."

Viktor laughed softly. He glanced at his daughter, with a frown. Harry noticed it as well. Vivien's skin seemed to loose the pinkish glow, looking more dead by the minute. Something unspoken passed between them. She stood up and gave Harry a smile, and then to his surprise, she jumped out of the window, disappearing into the darkness.

"You still don't know much about my kind then," Viktor stated, noticing his surprised expression. "She needs to hunt. She won't die if she doesn't drink, but her complexion will become less _human_. We wouldn't want that, would we? I'm sure she won't hold half the charm she has, if she looked like everyone else."

Harry cursed inwardly. This guy could also read his mind. Was there really no privacy in this bloody House of Blood?

Viktor laughed out.

"Well Mister Potter, I assume you are very uncomfortable with this - lack of privacy - then?" he said, his deep eyes twinkling in a way not unlike Dumbledore's do. He flashed him another ironic smile before continuing. "During my undoubtedly exciting venture in your memory I came across something called Occlumency, which is supposed to block off invasions to the mind of any kind. It seems, however, that you failed to master this art because of some _bat_. "

Harry, who was bristling a moment ago, choked again but this time in laughter. Viktor was interfering and nosy, but shared Harry's view of the potion master.

"Now before you are tempted to curse me in anger, Harry – do you mind if I call you Harry?" Harry nodded numbly. "Ok, Harry, I would like to offer an explanation to some things, such as why you are here, and why I took the liberty to examine your mind."

"Vivien has told you, this is the House of Blood. Being immortal makes you a lonely person, so we treasure any kind of friendship and live in covens. Our powers grow with time, and the oldest among us is automatically regarded as our leader. We have no laws, nor the need for any. The oldest member of this coven is Osiris, the one who made me what I am. Osiris was cursed to be half-man half-woman, but the Egyptian Gods pitied him and gave him the gift of foresight, he was an Oracle before he was turned, and his Seer powers remained intact to some extent even in this state of living death." He took off a plain gold ring from his finger and rubbed his thumb around the curve, and then smiled sadly. "It's his ring."

"A long time ago, Osiris looked into our future and saw our doom. He made a prophecy, the one thing that still drives me and gives us a reason to unite. _'The Darkest One looms, Lord he will be named, and the Dark Lord he shall be. He who brings the light of destruction on our kind, unless the Dark Prince…' _the prophecy ends here. Osiris awoke then, without any remembrance of what took place. And so we never found out about the next part."

Viktor sighed, and turned to look at the window. There was a forlorn tiredness about him. It was becoming more obvious by the minute.

"I have a shrewd guess to who the Dark Prince is."

_Yeah, and I wonder who. _Harry thought wryly, but he continued to listen without a word. It would be interesting to meet this Osiris, he though, a true Seer, unlike certain beetle-eyed professor of Hogwarts.

Viktor gave him another sad smile to show that he 'heard' before continuing. "This Prophecy was made before Vivien was born. Osiris used the word 'looms' in his prophecy, but being immortal the concept of time really doesn't matter. So we faced a problem of which Dark Lord he was referring to. He could mean centuries. Every age has its own evil, and every age has its own champion to defeat that evil. It has been so since my old friend Merlin's time. So we waited and waited. Grindelwald was the first to catch my attention - he certainly did have the power to wipe out all vampires if he wished. But I knew when I met him, that Grindelwald was not the One. For one thing, he sought domination of all power, no annihilation, he respected even Muggle-born wizards or witches as long as they had power. The champion of that age was Albus Dumbledore, but he was no Dark Prince. He despised us, he saw us as Dark Creatures because of our bloodlust. May be he has changed now, I don't know. But at that time, he would have wanted nothing more then to eradicate all so-called Dark Arts from earth. I knew then he wasn't the child of Prophecy, so I waited again."

"I watched from the darkest corners, I waited and roamed the night until one day, after the murder of 34 Aurors and 65 Muggles, the name Lord Voldemort became known. Voldemort was the real threat. He despised any magical folk that is _impure_. We Vampires, like Werewolves, are only worthy of being his servant and wiping his shoes. Who do you think he will turn to, when he finished with his _mudbloods_? He will turn on us. For this reason, very few true Vampires joined league with him, only those that were outcasts of the covens sniveled before him like rats."

He sighed again, resignation clear in his tone.

"I tried to fight him, Harry. But as a Vampire I have no magical power to match that of a Dark Lord, and as a Vampire I am vulnerable to sunlight – not daylight, but the pure sunlight spells can create. He could kill me in a flash if he wished."

"We waited for our chance then, not to fight him, but to aid the Prince in whatever ways we can. During the first few years of his reign, there seemed to be no one who can stand in his way. Lord Voldemort was invulnerable, and not even Albus Dumbledore dared to face his might. They may say Dumbledore was the one he feared, but that is mere propaganda. Dumbledore feared _him_; he was simply better at hiding his fear."

"We slowly lost all hope and faith, but suddenly news came that the Dark Lord was defeated, and you are the Boy-Who-Lived. So strangely the prophecy was fulfilled without our involvement. But I knew Voldemort was not banished from this world. He was then as close to immortality as a mortal can gets."

Viktor paused and stared out of the window pensively. After a moment he focused his gaze again on Harry.

"Do you know what I desire most, Harry Potter?" he asked with a bitter smile. "I desire death. I understand now how Osiris felt. I understand now why he chose to slumber within the embrace of the earth. Nothing excites me anymore, not even the lust for blood. The Dark Lord desires immortality. But what is immortality, does he know? Does he even comprehend what he seeks? It is eternal torture, Harry, and only the damned seek it."

"I don't want to fight anymore, Harry Potter. I'm weary of it. If the Dark Lord wants to destroy us, then let him do it. We want to die anyway. Why should we care? Why should I care? Immortality is a curse; it is only appropriate to let the Cursed One to end it."

Viktor leaned towards Harry and began to whisper.

"I never even dreamed of the day when I stumbled across your corpse, and the horror … you were dead, Harry, dead. Somehow your soul was blasted from your body, and somehow your magic was holding it back. You half-stepped into hell, yet even at the final moment your magic dragged you all the way back to life. How? What gave you the power?" he stared hard at Harry, unblinking.

Harry reached out a hand and studied it, curling the fingers tentatively. The scars that scattered across his hand previously were gone, and his fingers looked longer, more in proportion. His face was closed. In the depth of his mind he believed he knew what kept him alive, but he wasn't sure. After hesitating for few seconds, he spoke.

"It was my magic." Viktor simply looked at him quizzically, not understanding. Harry sighed. This did sound weird. "I was told, and even now I believe, that magic is alive, it's a part of the soul. Magic has feelings as well. I guess my magic is reluctant to part with my body, that's why it was holding back my soul."

He expected Viktor to sneer at this lame explanation, but the vampire didn't move. He didn't say a word for a long time, and they sat holding each other's gaze. The night sky outside deepened with a further shade of blue, and just outside the window, the shadow of a bat swept past.

"And what do you believe? Why, do you think your magic was reluctant to part with life?"

Harry thought long and hard on this one, but deep in his mind, he knew the answer again. There was never a doubt in his mind about why he lived, and why he _should_ live.

"I have a destiny to fulfill, to fight Voldemort." His voice was clear and firm.

Viktor snorted. "And what is destiny if not another curse of life? You wish to fight Voldemort, Dark Price, but tell me first. Who stands with you now to face him, as the Dark Lord's power grows every day to match that of a God? Who will stand in his way, when the fury of his armies is unleashed?"

He didn't need to think on this one. The answer was instinctual.

"I will, and if I must, I will stand alone."

Silence ...

Viktor stared at him, baffled. Gradually, a smile blossomed on his face, a twitching, disturbing smile like that on a corpse.

"I see what Osiris meant now."

Something glittered in his eyes, it looked like hope, the kind of hope that was forced, the kind that you find in a desperate man who found himself the last minute before suicide.

"In that case I offer to train you," Viktor stated plainly. "To help in whatever ways we can. We can not teach you spells, we can fight with you, but many of us are skilled in melee combat, and the oldest of us are wise. Without your wands, you wizards are as helpless as the muggles, so being a skilled fighter will give you advantages. Since you probably won't be able to use magic for a year at least, I guess this should offer you some defense."

"A good wizard does not loose his wand," Harry responded automatically. He couldn't picture a life without wands, without magic.

"Exactly my point," the Vampire smiled benignly, reading his mind again. "Since Merlin's time, you wizards kind has grown weak, decadent. You have grown dependent on magic, when it is but a skill to aid you in life. But I can give you the strength to fight, to stand alone and challenge a Dark God. We can teach you the skills your kind would quake to look on. You will be unique. The Dark Lord is a skilled wizard, and like all he looks on Muggle martial arts in disdain. But not you. I am offering you a chance to learn. The choice is up to you."

Harry nodded eagerly. He was getting tired of talking now. Some fighting was just what he needed. After all, he hadn't moved for two months.

Viktor smiled knowingly. "I know I speak much, Harry Potter, but please understand that you are the first mortal I have spoken to in fifty years. So it's in many ways exiting for me to use my tongue again. Vampires can communicate to each other with their mind, and I'm sure with your current magical level, you can learn this skill as well." He took out a piece of normal muggle paper with what looked like timetable written on it.

_You had this planned, _Harry realized inwardly. _All that prep talk leads to this._

Viktor didn't acknowledge his suspicion. His dark, mysterious way was returning.

"This is a schedule you may find acceptable. I can not allow you to go back to your world in such a vulnerable state, so you must complete your training once you start it. My good friend Magnus will be the teacher. He was a gladiator of my time, rather famous one too. He will teach you everything you need to know - " he suddenly paused, his eyes lifting from the paper. A large smile broke out on his face. "There is also one more thing. Vivien will be assisting your training in a way no human survived before. But you're unique, which is why I recommended it. She'll also teach you how to resist Legilimency and Mind Control, _any_ kind of Mind Control. Knowing my daughter, ever the master, I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

With that Viktor retreated to the doors. He gave Harry a last look.

"You posses a strange charm which appeal to we me, Mister Potter, you are a very special person. If you're not who you are, I would have turned you into one of us already. I'm actually surprised that Vivien hasn't tried. If any one in this house threatens your safety, you're welcome to use lethal force. I don't want you endangered. Remember your destiny. The doom of so many people and so many Vampires are linked with your fate."

Destiny, Harry was sick of that word. Viktor left. The door clicked shut. He threw himself onto the bed. Yes, he understood about Voldemort, he would have killed the snake-faced manic a thousand times over gladly simply as revenge for taking his parents and for making his life hell, but he didn't want a bloody prophecy to drive him, two bloody prophecies, in fact. All his life, he had been governed by forces unknown to him, and he hated every minute of it.

But another part of him, a stronger part of him, knew better. Destiny or no, he had already walked so far. His parents and Sirius died to give him a chance to fight for his life, and he wasn't about to waste that chance. He had been having this mental debate often enough. He had often wondered why life was so unfair, and why did he have to screw it up even more. But now these questions no longer mattered. Before, he asked those questions because he was afraid that he might die. Now that he _had_ died, he finally got to know what lies beyond it, where his parents and Sirius were waiting now. He tasted happiness briefly before being pulled back to a world of suffering.

He wasn't afraid anymore. What could life do to him but death? And what could death bring but freedom and escape? The earlier that day came – the better. He remembered what the Voice had told him this morning, about his soul being eternal. Well, there was always ways around that. If Voldemort could give himself immortality, then Harry could do the reverse.

Vivien returned sometimes later in the night, flying into the room as Harry was reading a book he found under the pillow, _the Legacy of the Bloodlines_. She transformed from her bat form into the same dazzling girl, frowned at Harry, and repeated the transformation again.

Harry closed the huge book in his lap with a snap and raised his eyebrows.

"Why did you repeat that?"

"Because you're supposed to look shocked," she said, pouting. "I see you finally found the book." Harry run his hand across the weathered, leather-bond cover of the book lovingly and opened it again.

"Yes, and I've just read the part about vampires being natural Bat Animagus," he said, scanning the page absently. "Very handy skill to have. No wonder why we associate you with bats."

Vivien sniffed and glided into the bed, settling down snugly. She examined her nails. There was a glow about her, a giant bubble of unnatural life that might burst any moment.

"So, did you kill him?" Harry asked, his voice slight colder than usual. "Your victim I mean."

The dewy glow had returned to her skin, making her face as sensuous and beautiful as ever. She was an immortal goddess. Obviously, she had fed quite a lot tonight.

Vivien turned sharply and glared at him. "Let's get this straight Harry Potter," she hissed angrily. "I. Don't. Kill. Got that? It won't take me half as long if I had the heart just to suck someone dry. But no, instead I traveled around the city and drank from 6 different victims, leaving them only dizzy. I'll also have you known that they did it voluntarily, under my charm. I'm not the kind to use violence, and I never will be. I know you think it's vain and selfish of me to seek beauty at others' expense, but is it wrong? I might be a zombie underneath the skin, but I want to be alive. Mortal women use make up, I use blood. You'll just have to accept it."

She was breathing heavily; her face was only inches away from his. Even in anger the vampire girl didn't blush, but she was emitting the irresistible heat. Her face was so close that Harry could see every detail on her skin, smooth and perfect like glass.

Harry smiled nervously, feeling sincerely sorry that he doubted her. This seemed to make Vivien relent, as she stopped glaring daggers at him. But she made no attempt to further the distance between them. Her lips were tantalizingly close to him, and his passion returned.

"So, I'm under the impression that I need to help you train," she told him smugly, her anger forgotten. "You obviously have no clue what that means. I'm no spoiling the surprise for you, but I'll tell you why you need me. Vampires are naturally stronger, faster and smarter than mortals. Magnus, your teacher for the next few months, happens to be stronger and faster and smarter than average Vampires. At your current state, there is no way you can keep up. This is where I come in – you need to have all the physical boosts Vampirism brings without turning, and I can give you that."

"Also," she continued, bending ever closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper. Her breath brushed against his face. "You'll soon meet a different kind of weapon, a weapon only a woman would use. Most guys will fall for it, but not you. Not after what you'll go through from me."

She slowly pressed forward so that her lips were touching his. Harry's face was on fire. His entire soul was being drawn out by the kiss. She was like the polar opposite of a Dementor. A Dementor never tasted so sweet' and a Dementor could never burn him with just a touch. He would willingly give sell his soul, just for this to continue.

Vivien suddenly pulled away, smirking.

"My point illustrated," she whispered in his ear. Harry shuddered.

"Get some rest; you have a lot to do tomorrow. Take the potion on the table. Oh, and your wand is in the second drawer. Goodnight."

With another smirk, she transformed into a bat and disappeared into the night.

Still dazed, Harry took his potion. Drowsiness swashed over him as he collapsed onto the bed. The potion made him feel light and carefree. Whatever that potion was, it was good, he thought as his mind wandered, finally drifting to sleep. Light went off automatically.

He never felt his scar flashing red in the dark.

Exhilaration filled him. His slit-like nostrils opened eagerly as he sniffed the potion in the giant cauldron, its great stone belly large enough for a man to sit in. the cauldron bubbled and crackled with bright yellow sparks as flames danced beneath it. The liquid heated fast and the surface looked like an erupting volcano. The fiery yellow sparks intensified, and steam was thickening. Blurry human shaped shadows could be seen in the smoke. Next to the cauldron, the shivering outline of Wormtail was tending the fire.

The excitement within him reached a peak; it rendered all other emotions senseless. He felt himself rubbing his hand eagerly.

"Hurry Wormtail, put in more wood, and _DON'T. USE. MAGIC! _" Wormtail, who was about to heat up the potion with a spell, mumbled and tucked away his wand. The color of the spark darkened and changed to blood red, alight with an eerie glow.

Suddenly, the potion exploded in a reddish mist. The fire beneath the cauldron vanished instantly as if sucked into a vacuum. The surface of the potion was sparkling and swirling as if alive. Occasionally, a giant bubble would float to the surface and blew up sluggishly, making a disgusting squelching sound.

He surveyed the scene through his crimson slit-like pupils. Where the mist touched his unnaturally pale skin, it burned him like acid. He could already feel it working its magic. Satisfied, he nodded at small man with the silver hand.

"Well done Peter, dim you may be, it seems that you're able to follow my instructions carefully. We shall tell soon if this potion is brewed correctly," he glanced at the shriveling man disdainfully and turned to the inner circle of Death Eaters. "My friends, this, is the experiment I've been preparing for ever since I discovered the potent of my power. If successful, this would become one of the greatest piece of work I have accomplished so far. I'll transform, and I will be one more step closer to immortality. I would have liked you to share the fruit of this labour with me, but none of you possess my amount of power. You will be burned alive if you do but touch it, so stay away."

He took a step closer towards the cauldron. The midnight-black gown slipped down and lay in a lifeless heap on the ground. Nagini the snake circled it tenderly, flicking out her tongue and then followed her master's naked foot. "Shall I describe to you what I will feel?" he said as he proceeded towards the cauldron. "I won't feel the heat at first. In fact, there should be a cool, tingling sensation, zipping into my very bones; then will come the pain, enough pain to boil my skin and overturn my flesh; then will come the heat, the heat that will reshape me into a nobler form. And last will come the transformation."

He stepped into the cauldron and allowed the potion to submerge him. He sighed blissfully.

"Ah, yes, I feel it," he whispered, "I feel the tingle, the chill, and the power. Pray now, my friends. If the potion was brewed wrongly, then it will explode and all of you would die. But I shall live. No matter what, I shall live…"

He trailed off as the potion began to bubble again and the mist intensified. The Death Eaters glanced at each other in panic, and Nagini was writhing on the ground as if in pain. Their master's form was no longer visible. The surface of the potion hissed and erupted in bright red flames with a vivid shade of blue.

The screaming began. It started as a soft moan, pitched somewhere between the grunt of a man and the groaning a woman. The moan deepened and intensified, and soon it became an ear-shattering scream of pain as something tossed and turned in the cauldron, struggling so violently that the potion threatened to spill. The mist constantly changed colour, sometimes red, sometimes blue, sometimes gold, and finally it settled to a smoky gray. The heat was overwhelming, blasting away the Death Eater's hoods. A barrel of water near the cauldron began to boil and vaporize. And the scream continued…

Then it was finished. The mist turned velvety black and dissipated again into vapour that obliterated everything in view. Wormtail was fidgeting with his master's robes on the floor, his face ashen. The Death Eaters were equally stricken as they gazed unblinkingly at the mist, holding their breath.

A blurred outline of a man could be seen rising slowly. He twisted his neck and stretched his arm experimentally. The cracking of his bones sounded like gunshot.

The mist dissipated slowly, the Death Eaters stared at the new but familiar form of their Lord - the sleek, shiny skin, sinuous, protuberating muscles, the same slit like red pupils but yellow ringed, and the same flat snake-like nose. Their master looked more twisted and skull-like then ever.

But there was one thing different. Their master had a lightening-shaped scar on his forehead.

The scar was positioned liked the famous Potter Scar, but larger. It was bright red, not clean cut. Rather, it was as if something pulled the skin until it ripped open, exposing the interior. A mass of rippling, moss-like substance, tiny tentacles wriggled, trying to chew its way out. Black-red blood oozed out, viscous like tar.

The Dark Lord looked around in his new vision. A red film covered everything, and the heated bodies of the Death Eaters were slightly tainted green. He was vaguely reminded of the Muggle technology - infrared. With a slight shake of head, the reddish mist disappeared and everything returned to the normal spectrum.

Then he sniffed. The sour smell of sweat, bittersweet taste of blood, delicate fragrance of the rain-washed grass rushed into his nostrils together. The soil had a dusty wetness to it, but it wasn't enough to cover the smell of rotting corpses buried several feet underground. Strangely, he didn't find that smell of death revolting at all. In fact, he wanted to taste it, taste man-flesh.

The Death Eaters were gazing at him dumbly, curiosity fighting with fear in their eyes. He could sense every heart beat among them. Wormtail was staring at him with repulsive admiration, his eyes shining in tears. He sneered and extended his hands.

His hands hadn't changed much. The fingers were still bony and extraordinarily long. The skin was slightly translucent, almost ablaze with power. With a faint smile, he opened his palm. There was a slight tingle, and then a green fireball appeared with a noise like gas being ignited, growing larger and larger. He flicked it casually at a tree, which wilted and turned into dust.

He felt his rubber like lips stretching into a mad grin. A rumble of laughter began building up in his stomach, worming its way upwards. The laugher went on none stop for a minute, and the Death Eaters were holding their ears in agony. Gradually, the excitement became bearable again.

"Behold, my friends," he whispered, his voice high-pitched and raspy. He licked his lips. "My experiment is successful, it seems, and I return to you now. It's not merely immortality I've gained, but the power over life and death. As of this moment, I am no longer the Dark Lord. I'm a God."

* * *

**Another A/N: You don't have to tell me. This Chapter SUCKED. I wrote more than five versions of it, and in the end just couldn't be bothered anymore. It's weird. I haven't wrote this much fiction for half a year and I've totally lost my touch. It never took me so long to write something. arh... I blame Philip Larkin. As much as I hate my english classes, what we learn still affects me. I noticed that Larkin and I have a lot in common. I just hope I don't end up like him.**

**REVIEWS:**

lluvatar/acerbusdominus/imgonnadie/harrypotterfan89/bandgsecurtiyaw/jbfritz/Crazym0i/noralena: thanks guys. Sorry for the late update.By the way, I'm answering all of yourreviews together only becauseI'm a lazy person and can't bebothered to write"thank you" 7 times. your reviewsmean as much to me as those i answer individually.

Apocalypse19: Hey! I've sent a message to you, but accidentally sent it before i finished. i mean to say, if you don't mind, when i have a question, i'll just ask you when i answer reviews or PM you. it's rather informal, i hope you don't mind

anyway, back to the review. i still think that Harry was never hit by the curse. it rebounded. Voldy is the one that survived death. your theory, however, is equally correct. i think only Jo knows the answer. we can just speculate. I've noticed about the speed as well. I have no idea how that happened, but I'll try to make it better. Any suggestions?

harry rukes: I think you just told the world what's gonna happen next ...

disturbedthoughts: ok ... I'm gladi kept you interested. thanks.

tumshie: lolthanks! it's nothing really. ispend15 hours a day with english speakers,anyone would have picked up the languagein thiskind ofenvironment.

LegalAlien1: well, it's not extactly "betrayal" ... Ron and Hermione are too immature to realize what they're doing, but hopely they'll grow up before it's too late.

ohymygoditsapretnel: well... yes... it's gonna bea great relationship, with great sex. I suck at writing them though. never had much experience.

Lil-Derrty: thanks alot!

godonabycycle: i think there is a story out there somewhere that's really similar to what you described. it's brilliant, from what i remember, but i'm not gonna write that! hopefully you were joking.

jensjona : wow... i did not know that ppl treated my story this seriously. thank you very much! your idea of a dramatic entrance is great. it's been done before, but i'm sure i can manipulate the situation somehow to make it original. thanks! loved the reviews, 3 of them!

ladybug9: definitely remember you! my big reviewers - you, review queen, penguin, and a bunch more (can't exactly remember the names, sorry). I'm so sorry for deleting the story. i did have a good reason. i tried something else other than writing, it didn't work out, so now i'm back. anyway, it feels good to take a break. great to see ya!


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. I'm preparing for my exams right now. **

**If only I had studied last year... or the year before... or the one before...**

**Anyway, Iposted chapter just to satisfy you guys. It could have been a lot longer, but I don't have time to write it. **

**Also, it physically pains me to write emotional stuff, so I had a REALLY hard time portraying Ginny's feelings. I hope it doesn't sound cheesy. **

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, panting heavily. He had just lost his temper and screamed at Professor McGonagal, again.

Stress was finally getting to him. For the past few weeks, he had become increasingly irritable. Whatever reserve and patience he once possessed were gone. His eyes lost the twinkle; dark lines crisscrossed into intricate curves on his forehead. He hadn't smiled for a long time, and now he'd almost forgotten what that felt like.

The war was going badly for his side. The number of Death Eaters seemed to have increased exponentially, and worse, Voldemort's Inner Circle had become ridiculously powerful overnight. He was now outnumbered and overpowered. As wise and experienced as he was, this was an impossible war, and he had no clue how to survive it.

He had called for a Summit Meeting between all European Wizarding Communities; Silvia even used her contact in the Far East to seek assistance. But there was no help from anywhere, because everywhere people already lived under the shadows of War. Dark wizards, inspired by Lord Voldemort, were stirring up trouble all over the world.

They've hit a new era in magical history, a turning point. If they survive this war, there would be revolutionary reforms throughout the world, there will be groups calling for the eradication of all magical creatures – werewolves, centaurs, giants – all those who betrayed their human "allies" during this critical period. There would be terror and prosecution of all those deemed dark.

On the other hand, if Voldemort wins, there would be terror of a different kind. It would be a dictatorship, ruled by a few Death Eater elite with Voldemort at the top, worshipped like a god.

The time to decide the outcome of the war was near now. The inevitability of a terrible struggle between light and dark confronted them at every turn. Each day the power of the light decays, weakened by every death. Soon there will be no more love, hope and beauty in life. People would give in to fear. A time of anarchy and chaos faced them, and he, Albus Dumbledore, the last beacon of freedom in the wizarding world, can do nothing but accept it.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

Ginny Weasley's face peered in, her eyes downcast; her hands pulled at the corners of her jumper nervously. Puffs of white mist erupted from her mouth and nose as she shivered in the cold. This was another mysterious epidemic phenomenon – although it should be springtime, the weather was still as cold as it was in winter.

"Sir, Silvia is back. She found Deladus Diggle," she said softly. "They're in the hospital wing right now."

Dumbledore nodded at her, his lips twitching in a pathetic attempt to smile. He stood up and followed Ginny.

Diggle set out for a mission four days ago. Recently there had been frequent muggle disappearances near Stonehenge. Human and animal bodies have turned up with bits and pieces missing. Deladus Diggle was sent to investigate, but he never reported back.

Albus sighed. He had feared the worst, and now, from Ginny's tone, it seemed that his fear was confirmed.

Ginny had been helping out for two weeks now. The girl had exceptional organization skills and a maturity far beyond her ages. For a fortnight she had been running errands, helping him tackle school issues, answering letters from parents and the ministry. Silvia was the first person to discover her abilities after Ginny had filled in for a second year DADA lesson. She and Ginny seem to have become very close friends, sharing almost a sibling relationship. If he was right, Silvia was even teaching Ginny wandless magic. What connected them, he guessed, was their love for the boy Harry Potter.

The infirmary was dark. Faint pale silver moonlight poured down out of heaven into the silent room. The acrid smell of Muggle disinfectant lingered in the air. The empty, monotonous beds cast their shadows upon the tiled floor. The only thing alive was the spell sparks from Madam Pomfrey's wand – tinny sprinkles of light that blinked with a blue light and was gone, leaving no trace of their passing.

Deladus Diggle lay lifeless on the bed in the middle of the room. His limbs were charred, bits were almost rotten. His body was torn open, organs kept intact by magic alone. His face was marred and broken; the excitable eyes gazed emptily at the ceiling. He looked so empty, almost serene.

Alastor Moody, Minerva, Silvia and several other Order members gazed at him wordlessly. The silence was complete, interrupted only by Diggle's occational, raspy breathing.

"Is he pain?"

Dumbledore's resigned whispered filled the quiet.

Madame Pomfrey shook her head and pointed at a bottle of painkiller potion on the nightstand. She didn't speak.

The silence was suddenly shattered by a burst of desperate gasping. Diggle's body tightened as he stared unseeingly, his mutilated face distorted by fear. He coughed, blood gargling up his throat sluggishly, accompanied by a decaying smell. Then the gasping slowed, his body relaxed, and the breathing stopped altogether. Madame Pomfrey's spell gave a final slicker, and then that too was gone.

No one said anything. No tear was shed. They've seen too many deaths for the past two weeks, they're familiar with it. One day, they knew, it will come and claim them all.

They stood in a circle around the bed, head bent, whispering a silent adieu.

Ginny didn't cry. She always liked Diggle, she found his twitchy excitement endearing. For a while, he had been her friend. He was gone now, but she didn't cry. She had no tears left to shed.

The Order had a small memorial service for him. It was a silent affair. Nobody talked. Diggle had no family, his friends were his life. They all gathered here now, indulged in their own memories of the young man. Half an hour later it was all over. All his possessions were gone, photos, letters, clothes, all burned to ashes. In time, memories of him would fade too; it would be as if the man never existed, just like Elphias Doge, Hestia Jones, Fabian Meadowes, Selene Fenwick, just like Harry Potter.

Ginny smiled bitterly as her thoughts wandered again to the face that she had for countless times attempted to banish from her head. Her attempts failed, of course. No matter what she tried, that handsome face, with the unruly raven hair, sparkling green eyes and resolute chin always managed to crack its way back into her thoughts, haunting her night and day It was almost funny, she though, how she realized what she'd lost only after she had lost it. Harry Potter had been hers. She never told him how much she loved him, and now he was gone forever.

There was no point weeping over him now. They had a war to fight. The last two weeks showed her what it felt like to be involved with the Order of the Phoenix and what it was like to live with your life on the edge. Ron, Hermione and the DA hero-worshipped the Order Members, but only she knew what the fabled OotP was like. They were people, each and every one with a dark past; each and every one of them driven to the point of near-insanity by the loss of their loved ones. She felt sorry for them at first, but now she was becoming just like them, numbed by the death and horror she had seen and consumed by a thirst for revenge.

Come to think of it, she had seen and heard a lot of strange things over the past two weeks, so many that she hardly knew the world anymore. She was the only student to see Dumbledore evoke the full of his might, dragging someone half-way back from death – that was Fabian – only to abandon him to darkness again. It was agonizing to see the face of a man who died and lived and died again, but Dumbledore wasn't willing to anything more for him, for "necromancy," he had said, "is the foulest, most uncanny, unnatural and evil art of all."

She had helped Madam Pomfrey to patch up the wounded in the infirmary. No current student knew that the Hogwarts infirmary had a secret chamber, but she did. She was the first in centuries to step into the stingy cell as a student, to recognize it as an old torturing room where the machines of pain still hung fresh on the walls. This chamber was where the Order tended their wounded and burned their dead, where the glorified Wardens of Light (as the DA called them) spent the last hours of their life, waiting for families that never came, for friends that were still out there, meeting their own deaths.

It was a loosing war, she realized that much. Resistance to Voldemort dwindled with every passing minute, yet the Death Eaters seemed to sustain no casualty. When one of them died, two always appeared to replace him. She wasn't afraid though, not anymore. There couldn't anything worse than death, and she had witnessed so many deaths and accepted them – some had been friends, others remained faces. She knew that at the rate the Order Members were being killed off, her own death would come soon. She only hoped that when the time comes, she could accept that too.

Ginny hadn't attended any DA meetings since the week after they learned of Harry's death. Ron and Hermione were pretty cool about this, they assumed that the DA reminded her too much of Harry and didn't want her constant weeping to ruin their club. Hermione could be so blind sometimes - Ginny no longer was the emotional wreck that they thought she was, and what bothered her wasn't the DA itself, but how the Golden Couple chose to run it.

First of all, Ron and Hermione had no justification whatsoever to assume leadership. They can't even use the excuse of being Harry's best friends, because at the moment before Harry's death, they hated him more than they hated Malfoy.

They also had a very naïve view on the war. They appointed themselves to be the general and the lieutenant and awarded ranks to DA members as if it is some kind of war game. They dubbed themselves again to be Dumbledore's Army, and armed with a few spells listed in Ministry Handouts, Ron now boasted of taking on several Death Eaters himself - Ron, who still fainted when he saw blood.

Ron and Hermione's intentions were good. They want to help in the war, and Ginny loved them for that. She only hoped that when Hogwarts was under siege, Ron's cowardly nature would take over and he would run. Other he won't survive.

It was strange now to see Ron and Hermione standing on the raised little platform in Harry's place. Hermione wasn't wrong, DA meetings did remind her of Harry, but she wasn't going to cry. Memories of him gave her strength, and in any case, there was still hopeless for Harry. Professor Dumbledore and Silvia believed that he was alive.

"I think we'll begin with some of the spells we covered last week," Hermione began as she paced around on the platform with all eyes fixed upon her. She was wearing tight jeans and a matching jumper that was tighter still. Her hair was tied into a bun in an intelligent way. She looked sexy, but her attire was totally inadequate for fighting.

"Yeah," Ron continued. He was better dressed, with loose black pants and a tight, cotton shirt that emphasized his well-defined torso. His longish, wavy red hair cascaded behind his back. With the hint of a scratchy beard, Ron had a dashing look every bit like the standard propagandized hero.

"We should probably start revising that Sword Curse, and then go on working on our Stunners. Some of us still can't manage to keep our opponents unconscious for more than half a minute."

Most people weren't really listening. Girls stared at him dreamily, giggling when he cast his flashing eyes upon them. Others chatted animatedly in low voices. Couples were even making out in secluded corners.

Ginny rolled her eyes. _What is this? The Defense Club or the Flirt Club?_ She thought dryly. So Ron and Hermione haven't changed their style at all. The DA remained disorganized; a little music and alcohol and this would be a social gathering. It was funny to watching Ron and Hermione prattling on onstage, throwing spells at each other when most people weren't even looking.

"People, please concentrate," Hermione said in exasperation. "If you don't want to listen, then you shouldn't be here at all. We are at war. We need you to defend Hogwarts when the time comes, so please, take this opportunity to learn something."

"What are most of them doing here anyway?" Ginny heard Ron whisper. "They aren't here to learn spells."

That was a good question. Hermione didn't know the answer, but Ginny did. They're here because they want to escape the solitude of the castle, to be close to other people so that when Voldemort storms the school, they won't die alone.

The Slytherin house has been emptied, its student population disappearing overnight. This was what warned them in the first place – if Death Eater children are moving out, then Hogwarts won't be left alone for much longer.

What followed was massive evacuation. Students ran away from school, parents kidnapped their child. Within three days, not even a fifth of the Hogwarts population remained, and half of them were in this room right now.

Hermione sighed in defeat. She clapped her hands, and the environment immediately changed. The bright ceiling turned black, lit only by dozens of gigantic amethyst crystals that gave out dim, slowly spiraling purple lights. Book cases disappeared, cushions that littered the floor turned to groups of soft couches, and the battle platform transformed into a circular mini bar.

Ginny snorted as music appeared out of nowhere. So this was what they've been doing for the last two weeks. They turned the DA into a club. There were even small bedrooms available. But was fine, she thought. Get drunk, get laid. If they didn't do it now, they may never have a chance.

Several couples stood up, Ginny stood up with them. They headed towards to the bedrooms, she to the door. They walked drunkenly, holding hands and giggling. She walked alone, her beautiful face marred by a bitter smile. Within seconds she was outside, the music was muffled; the laughers utterly died out. The corridors were silent; a cold breeze ruffled her hair. Ginny sneezed; she blew her nose into a handkerchief and tossed it into the air, where it promptly exploded into a burst of flame. She concentrated and then flicked her hand. Her bag shuddered and trotted towards her awkwardly. Ginny frowned. No matter how she tries, she couldn't make her bag follow her with the same grace Harry's bag used to follow him around. She sighed and headed towards the Headmaster's office, her bag trailing sadly behind.

Dumbledore was pacing around his office again. The lines on his faces seemed to have deepened during the course a few minutes. Another Order member died tonight, and it was because of his fault again. He knew he should be calling for a meeting right now, but he no longer had the courage to face the others, not when all he could to was to lead them into their death.

He continued pacing. The paintings of his predecessors gazed at him dizzily, Fawkes hooted softly on his stand.

The night deepened outside. It was a cloudless night, but the stars were blotted out anyway by a perpetual darkness. The air that drifted into the room from the open windows felt like magic and stank of blood.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Enter," Dumbledore muttered tiredly. He didn't have the courage to face anyone, but nor did he have the courage to avoid them.

Ginny stepped in. She looked embarrassed for some reason. Dumbledore scrutinized her for a moment and caught her eye; then he knew.

"Ah, I take it you've been to the club, Miss Weasley," he said with a hint of a smile.

Ginny blushed. "Yes Sir."

Dumbledore finally stopped pacing. He heard the portraits sigh in relief as he settled down in his chair.

"Don't worry, Miss Weasley. I am of course aware of what your brother and Miss Granger have been doing. Under normal circumstances, they would be breaking about a dozen school rules, but I suppose with death looming above us all, a little relaxation is harmless - " he said, the half smile still on his face. " – as long as proper precautions have been taken."

Ginny blushed even more; she nodded, but her eyes drifted away longingly.

Dumbledore sighed. He knew what she was thinking without having to read her mind.

"I'm sorry for teasing you, Ginny. I didn't mean to evoke – memories."

Ginny didn't answer. She gazed emptily at the wall. The blush slowly faded from her cheek, but the longing in her eyes deepened. She was silent for awhile.

"No problem, Professor. It's just that, I miss him so much." She swallowed, still sitting unmoving. "He was always special to me, but I always thought that what I felt was only an extension of my crush. Now I can't sleep without dreaming about him, can't stay awake without thinking about him. If you think he's alive, professor, why hasn't he come back?"

Albus sighed. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands.

"Harry …" he began, struggling for words, "… was always – I guess – lonely. I don't think he ever had a friend before coming to Hogwarts. Solitude does strange things to people, Ginny, even to someone as unique as Harry. I didn't see that until it was too late. Severus wasn't wrong about one thing, Harry _was_ attention seeking. He always wanted to be a part of things, to be seen, heard and felt, but not in the way Severus thought. Imagine yourself, neglected as a child, forced to live with people that hate you. Anyone grew like that would want to assert their existence."

"And then, suddenly, Harry was thrown into our world, the world of his parents. Six years ago I thought he would be happy, but today, six years later, I realized that I was wrong. Maybe life with the Dursleys wasn't good, but at least it was a stable life. He was told that his entire life had been a lie, that not only was he not the scum Dursleys saw him as, he was also a legend, worshiped by hundreds of thousands throughout the world, and that his family didn't die in a car crash, they were murdered by someone equal in fame as he was."

"For a weaker person, this kind of information would drive him mad, but not Harry. He was born with great inner strength; he was stronger than I ever was. Within days he accepted a completely alien universe, made friends, found love" – Ginny blushed again – "and became everything I can ever dream of him to be."

Dumbledore paused and took a deep breath. The portraits on the wall gazed at him intently, all waiting to hear the rest of the story.

"But we took everything away. His only friends drove him away from the only place he called home, turned him into an outcast. I guess this was where we finally crossed the line."

"And what?" Ginny asked urgently, grabbing her chair so tight that her knuckles turned white.

"I think we drove him mad."

Ginny stared.

"This device," Dumbledore said gently, pointing to a square piece of glass showing various maps and charts, "shows me Harry's health, mental stability, magic level and position. Right now, his magical level is negative, which is theoretically impossible; his health is over the chart, which is also impossible; if he is dead, his mental stability should be on zero, but right now it's not even on the chart, which has never happened to anyone before; and finally, he seems to have vanished from earth."

"You see, this device tracks the wizard by seeking out his blood signature, his magical signature, and what muggles call the brainwave. The combination of these three types of data is what makes this device so accurate."

Dumbledore waved his wand. The device disappeared.

"There are only two explanations available for Harry data: he has become immortal and his magic core became unlike anything of this universe and he learned to disguise his brain function, or more simply, he is mad."

Ginny didn't speak. She had a confused look on her face, which slowly changed to disbelief. Dumbledore didn't blame her. He didn't believe Harry was alive until his tracking devise suddenly activated, and he still couldn't believe that Harry wandering out there as a madman. However, it wasn't a matter of belief or disbelief. The device was never wrong.

There was another knock on the door. Professor McGonagall pushed in, looking panicked, a black envelope in her hand. She nodded at Ginny, who didn't nod back.

"Albus, you need to read this."

Dumbledore took the letter off her. Frost was creeping up his spine._ It couldn't be. Not so soon._

The writing in the letter was rushed. He canned through it and dropped it in shock.

_Dumbledore,_

_St. Mungo's attacked within a week. Dark Lord suspects me. Prepare._

_Snape_

It wasn't what he feared then. The letter wasn't Voldemort's ultimatum. But in ways, it was worse. This was just like the last war. Last time, Hogwarts was Voldemort's next target after the St. Mungo's, but luckily for them, last time there was a Harry Potter to stop him.

This time, Harry Potter was either mad or dead, and Voldemort several times more powerful.

Dumbledore looked at McGonagall, then Ginny, then McGonagall again. For a moment he looked panicked, but then he calmed down.

"Ginny," he said to the girl kindly, "you've had a long day, get some rest. Minerva, get everyone else up here. Fawkes, find Tonks."

The Headmaster looked more resolved with every passing second. The Order of the Phoenix wasn't going down without a fight. If this was the penultimate battle, he was going to dent Voldemort's forces as much as he can before they meet at last.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty One: Living or Dead?**

_Bam! _

Harry landed heavily on his back for Merlin knew how many times that day.

"Come on, get up!" the grey haired vampire yelled happily, a maniacal grin hanging off his face. "I've not had so much fun for centuries. You're not spoiling it for me."

Harry bristled indignantly as he scrambled up from the floor, drenched in sweat and blood. His entire back was bruised from that back slam. He shrugged of the pain with a flinch.

"That's my boy. Again!"

Harry charged, swinging his fist madly with a total lack of style, and the vampire slapped off his blows as if they were flies.

"How many times have I told you," he boomed, with a hint of impatience, "you're a bloody wizard, _use_ your magic."

_Bam! _

Harry ended up on the floor, again.

"Your recovery is remarkable even by an Immortal's standard," the Vampire exclaimed, clearly enjoying the pain he was causing as he suckled on a bloodied finger – Harry's blood. The wizard boy ignored him. Resolutely he performed a spinning kick, still out of style, but this time a little magic went into the kick. His foot, a grayish blur of shadow, slammed into the other's chest, sending him flying across the room landing in a crumpled heap.

"Take that!" Harry did a back flip, almost slipping as he landed awkwardly. The Vampire stood up with a resigned smile. Faster than a shadow he struck, his fist impacting precisely with Harry's stomach. The boy collapsed again; he coughed, spraying the floor with unnaturally crimson blood. He only had a second to glare at the vampire before he fainted.

When he woke up again, Harry was in his own room.

The window was open. Stars sparkled at him. A night breeze drifted into the room, carrying an increasingly familiar bittersweet scent of decay. Food was laid out for him on a silver tray in a trolley – lamb chops bordering raw and wine that looked alarmingly like blood. His stomach rambled at the sight, reminding him that he hasn't eaten all day.

Someone has bathed him while he passed out. For the first time that day Harry felt dry, clean and relaxed. His legs felt like two blobs of cement, his knees tight like rusty screws. Yawning, he wolfed down the lamb, and progressed out of the room.

Vivien wasn't in the mansion. Nodding to several vampires, Harry drifted into one of the blood-red, archaic armchairs and allowed the memories of the past weeks flow by his eyes.

Viktor had promised him training the night they met, and he was true to his word.

Spending a day in solitude, that night he awoke to find a Vampire in his room. He was a heavily built, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Harry waited expectantly for the new vampire to speak, but the stranger ignored him. Shrugging, he took a shower in the bathroom next door and dressed, content to let the Vampire keep his silence if he wished. By then, he already understood enough about these bloodsuckers to know that they rarely talked, mostly communicating with their mind.

The Vampire hadn't even moved when Harry returned feeling refreshed and alive. He sat down opposite him and waited for the man to say something. The vampire held his gaze, unblinking. As any other of the immortals, he looked ageless. But Harry assumed that this man died young, no more than thirty years. His body was powerfully developed, yet not out of proportion. There was a feral calmness that echoed only one thing: danger. The Vampire observed Harry with an expression of apathy.

Harry looked back blankly, but this was more difficult to achieve without his magic shielding his emotions. He suddenly wondered whether this Vampire would move if he pinched him.

This mutual silence seemed to last for hours. The silence was killing him.He wondered if the Vampire was mute, or was he simply stupid and entered the wrong room. In any case he wasn't going to be the first person to speak if the Vampire didn't explain himself.

The vampire had patches of white hair sprinkled unevenly amidst a mass of shiny black hair. He probably got that before his 'death', since Vampires didn't age. He vampire looked battle-worn, with a scar across one eye and a piece of his left year is missing, and if Harry looked closely enough, he could see the bumpy skin of poorly-healed wounds on his chin. Finally, getting more and more bored, with less and less features to scrutinize, Harry decided to leave to find Vivien. The vampire can sit here all day and all night if he wished. Who cared anyway? He pushed himself up from the floor with a groan and headed for the door.

As soon as he stepped next to the Vampire, however, a claw like hand reached out and grabbed his left foot, hurling him to the floor.

Harry leaped up immediately. He glared at the Vampire, furious. But the Vampire was still sitting calmly, looking at him with a placid expression. With a scowl, Harry darted towards the door again.

Again the claw like hand reached out, but this time Harry was prepared. At the last second he jumped over the Vampire's sitting form gleafully towards the exit. The Vampire's eyes widened in surprise for a fraction of a second, then another hand shot out and grabbed his other heel midair.

Harry was thrown painfully onto the floor. His forehead banged painfully on the door and left him seeing silver Snitches dancing around his head. He groaned, his headache returning. When his head cleared, Harry glared at the vampire spitefully, only to find that the man was smiling.

"Very good Harry Potter," the voice was deep and echoing. "You may not be so much of a fighter, but you definitely have the spirit."

Harry was confused, but he didn't want to speak with this maniac anymore. He had got to where he wanted - next to the door. He crawled up painfully and reached out for the handle.

The next thing he felt was a hand jabbing roughly at his neck while another slashed at his thigh. In the blink of an eye he lost his balanced and collapsed stiffly to the left side, smashing his head into Vivien's favorite couch. His face was being pressed into the fabrics by the Vampire, and a foot was stamping his back so that he couldn't move.

"Don't. Turn. Your. Back. To. The. Enemy." said the Vampire, his voice exasperated. "How do you know I won't attack you while you are not watching."

"That's sneaky!" Harry gasped, struggling with the hand pressing him.

"Yes, it's sneaky, so what? It won't matter your opponent is dead. You're weak Harry Potter, very weak. I expect you to learn hard, or you won't survive whatever war with the Dark Lord." The man breathed and released him. Harry glared at him for a moment, while the vampire looked back impassive and turned, heading for the door, muttering. "But I will teach you how to fight. I expect you to wake at 9 o'clock every night and prepare yoursel – OH!"

His words were cut off as Harry slammed his shoulder into him with all his might. The vampire was pushed flat against the door and then slipped onto the floor. Harry stepped a foot on the vampire's neck.

"What happened to not turning your back on your opponent?" Harry taunted, and in a flash, the Vampire threw him off his back. Harry was on the floor again, with his foot twisted painfully. The Vampire smiled.

"You learn fast, Harry Potter. I'll enjoy teaching you. My name is Magnus."

Nervously, Harry smiled back.

For the rest of the night, Magnus showed Harry the underground training area. There were zones to practice shooting, but that wasn't Magnus's job. His job was to train Harry how to fight, including fencing, martial arts, and the skill of making use of anything around him as a deadly weapon.

They spent the night getting an overview of melee combat. They talked about Harry's physical shape, which Magnus said was "not bad, but not good enough." Apparently, while his Magic dragged him back to life, it also took the chance to fix everything wrong with his body. His Magic corrected his eyesight and even increased his height a little for him to be more proportional. But this wasn't enough. He couldn't even lift up a regular sword or hold a shield without shaking.

"Punching is easy as long as you have hard fists, finishing off someone with one punch is hard. Cutting someone is easy if you have a sharp sword, but cutting off his head with one stroke is not something everybody can do," Magnus had explained. "You can learn these techniques, but first, you need your strength."

So they spent the next 4 hours making up plans for him to balance out his training. He had growth potions helping him to grow so that with enough intensive working out, his muscles should grow several times faster than normal. Magnus also gave him a slight zip of his own blood – so that some degree of vampire traits might be passed into him. The potion and blood together might eventually cost him a dozen years of life, but Harry really wasn't bothered about that. Besides, he wasn't even sure if he could die, the demon's magic making him – as he instinctually knew – effectively immortal.

Magnus had an interesting history. He was one of the oldest of Vampires, if not as old as Viktor. In life he had been a Roman Gladiator, one of the youngest and one of the best. Unfortunately, a high-class fighter like him was easy to be dragged into conspiracy, and he was poisoned before a match so he couldn't fight. It was the fist match he lost and the last. They left his body there, bleeding to death and burning with fever. But that night, the fabled Osiris visited him and turned him into an immortal. He gave him the strength to revenge, and deadlier weapon to hunt. The gladiator enjoyed warfare and bloodshed. He had fought in the Thirty-Year's War, he had fought in the First and Second World War. Now, as he said, he was ready to fight in the Second Wizard's War.

They really didn't get to do much that night, given that by the time Magnus finished his introduction, dawn wasn't far off. Magnus only had a few hours before he was to rest for the day. For the remainder of the time, he mostly gave Harry tips on how to protect himself, such as keeping an eye on his surroundings all the time. It was all stuff that Harry had already known, and Magnus was like the Vampire equivalent of Mad Eye Moody. The lesson was finished quickly, giving them two hours left for idle chitchat.

"Tell me, Magnus, why are you teaching me? I mean, I'm sure there are loads of young Vampires who are dying to learn from you. What makes you think I can make it? I can't keep up with your Vampire speed or strength. Why shouldn't I just stick to magic?"

Magnus looked at Harry, complete seriousness in his eyes.

"I understand why you doubt yourself, an average Vampire is four times as strong as a human and 10 times as fast. We elders are even stronger. But I'm telling you this – have confidence in yourself. I was sixteen when I had my first kill. Before that I couldn't even kill a chicken. I can tell a warrior when I see one. Besides, Viktor knows what he's doing. He performed some sort of test on you – don't ask me what, I'm not that great with magic although I'm magical – and the test result showed that your body is changing. I didn't understand what he meant, and I'm not that great with the mind reading stuff either. But I can see that you're different. Even now, as we talk, I feel something festering in you, like an caged animal, seeking to break out, changing you in the process. To what? I don't know, but your reflex is way above mortal average. This alone means that you're made to be a fighter."

He paused, staring at a point on the wall.

"The other reason is that I have faith in you. We all do. It's strange to place our hope in a mortal, but we and we alone have seen your potentials. I watched how you struggle with death, how you pulled yourself away from the hands of God. If there is someone to bring down the Dark Lord it is you, Harry Potter. I've seen him, that monster, and ashamed I am to say that I fear him. His power is unimaginable, he could destroy me with a finger if he wished. But you will fight him, and you will beat him. For this, we help you. I am a brute, Harry Potter, a damned brutal barbarian who can't even read properly after living for two thousand years. I can't give you much; you might be best in waving that stick of yours, but if you study from me, you can still be the best even without that stick. I'll make damn sure you are."

Harry didn't know what to say, he stared quietly at Magnus for a while, contemplating his thoughts. There was only one thing he could say.

"I promise that I will do my best."

Magnus laughed roughly.

"No Harry Potter. You'll do _my_ best. Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow, I'll make your precious mortal life hell."

With that, he left. And so begins Harry's time in hell.

It had been some weeks since first meeting Magnus, or rather he thought it was weeks. Time really had no meaning here. With the immortals, a day might well have been an eternity.

Since that day, Harry learned from Magnus a range of fighting techniques. The vampire didn't teach him martial arts like he expected. He was more concerned with turning Harry into a killing machine, telling him how to hit, where to hit, and how to finish off an opponent with one blow. Magnus had taught him how to use daily object as weapons. A matchstick for example, could become a deadly weapon if you stuck it into the opponent's eye. There really was no style involved in Magnus' fighting methods. It was quick, violent, and bloody. Nothing more, nothing less, but he enjoyed it.

There were also crucial tips that sounded almost philosophical. Magnus repeated said, for example, 'never fight a battle you can't win, when you meet someone stronger than you, run.' Harry thought it cowardly, Magnus called it intelligence.

And so their lessons continued day after day. Harry suffered through every single one of them. Potions could only help so much, and if he took too much of it, he might die. Right now, every movement he made gave a sharp jolt of pain in his muscles. It was painful in a strange way, resembling a burning sensation as if he was slowly roasted. Harry kept that in mind, wanting to ask Magnus the next day

That morning he had the dream again.

He dreamed of Vivien, she was touching him, running her icy hands freely along his chest, the chill giving him goosebumps. Her lips melted against his, her tongue darting at his like ice melting fire. He felt a familiar chilliness pressing against him, from chest to knees. He wasn't sure how long she had been on top of him when he suddenly yielded to the impulse to return her kiss hungrily, devouring her every breath of death. He felt her tense in surprise, and then a slow moan escaped her. She continued to kiss her way down his jaw, pushing his head down with a finger, telling him wordlessly to remain passive. She paid particular attention to the bruises, nipping and sucking them almost painfully before shifting her lips upward again. In response he ran his hands along her body, cupping a breast somewhat clumsily. Another contented whisper escaped her throat, making him shiver. Finally, his hand snaked its way to her inner thigh.

He'd been having this dream, morning after morning, ever since he got here. Sometimes he wondered if it was real, instead of just his hormones. Every time he tried to ask her, however, he would wake up. Dream or not, he enjoyed it, so very soon Harry learned to stop questioning.

His heartbeat sped up, bursting somewhere along his throat as she guided him in. His entire body was on fire, especially in his groin. It was the most strange and wonderful feeling, he felt like a ball of fire wrapped under layers of ice. She lifted a pair of hazy eyes to his, licking her lips. She continued to explore his warm body with her hands as their bodies rocked rhythmically together. Her lips wandered to his neck and as if under an irresistible urge she bit down with considerable force. He felt a jolt in his heart, as if his heart strings were being pulled, and then the numbing, electrifying sensation began to spread from his neck to the rest of his body. Her ecstasy became his pain, his blood mingled with hers. With a shudder and a moan he froze, while she collapsed on him, her lips still attached to his open wound. Soon, she was the one radiating the only warmth as he laid in a blissful trance, shivering involuntarily at the coldness in his limbs…

Harry awoke several hours later. Looking to his side he hoped to make out the shape of Vivien's naked body, to feel the lingering warmth of his life, and smell the bittersweet of his blood.

But she wasn't there. It was just a dream then; he smiled to himself and welcomed the darkness to take him again.

**  
**

Few people in the world knew where St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies really was. They knew how to get there: via floo, or through the door concealed in a shop window on a muggle street, Apparate … but few actually questioned where the building was located. Most people simply assumed that it was somehow squeezed in central London. Those who didn't buy the fairytale were silenced immediately. It was supposed to be a secret, one that only the selected few should know.

In reality, St Mungo's hospital building was situated in a little river valley in the Pennines. Visitors were teleported from particular entrance points scattered across London into the hospital building. It was complicated magic, involving in the careful manipulation of time and space, and it ensured the so-called absolute secrecy.

Right at this moment, the hospital was rendered inaccessible to outsiders. The floo links were cut off, anti-apparation charms were cast, and entrance points were sealed. The hospital building – which had recently undergone careful renovation that involved in replacing the wooden structure with concrete – was engulfed in a gigantic pale shield set up but Silvia, so that from afar it appeared like a massive sand-castle wrapped in a giant bubble.

It took Silvia three days to set up that shield and a further two days to recover from it. According to her, it should hold intact for days, unless some Death Eater happened to know a powerful mining spell, or if Voldemort himself was here.

The Ministry of Magic received an ultimatum from the Dark Lord two weeks ago. The Ministry was to abandon its control over the British Magical Communities and a new system of government was to be set up under the guidelines set up by the Dark Lord. All Aurors were to be disarmed and dispatched to Azkaban. Naturally Dumbledore refused – he was practically running the country these days, the people around him could never understand where he got the energy from – but so now here they are, waiting for an attack, the first consequence of their "insubordination to the Dark Lord."

The Ministry of Magic emptied itself fort this operation. Severus Snape warned them of the Dark Lords of attack - St Mungo's. The hospital was too strategically important to be lost, so for now all patients were transferred to Hogwarts. Taking their place was every single active Aurors in nearby cities. Dumbledore had considered sending Order members, but in the end only Silvia came. The rest were scattered around in London protecting other vital places, and most importantly of all they had to protect Hogwarts.

So here they were, Silvia and Tonks, standing side by side, waiting for the inevitable struggle for their lives.

Dawn broke. They both took a deep breath.

Tonks took another deep breath, her hands squeezing tight around her wand. As Silvia said, courage was the best weapon they have now.

Gray mist covered the entire valley floor, thick, still, and impenetrable. It lay above the earth like a giant slug, itching inch by inch towards St Mungo's building. Light disappeared from the creeping mist, as if swallowed by the writhing darkness. More erratically it swirled, coming into contact with Silvia's Shield. The Shield surface bubbled like molten glass, but stood its ground. Beyond the shield, lines after lines of Aurors stood, waiting.

St Mungo's Hospital site had been magically modified for better defense. It was Silvia's idea. Strictly speaking it wasn't legal, and after all this fuss was over, they'd probably be in deep shit with the St Mungo's Legal Committee. But then, thought Tonks, their primary concern was to survive this day, instead of worrying about what those idiotic bureaucrats thought.

She was on the front line, flanked by Kingsley and another Auror she didn't know. Kingsley was staring down at the wiggly mist with grim determination. The dark-skinned wizard had tried to keep her inside the building with the reserve force. Tonks knew what he was trying to do – she was too young to die. But then, as she argued, this was war and they were soldiers. What were they to do if not die, while their leaders cowered behind?

Behind her and around her, fellow Aurors stood prepared, wands uptight in their hands, battle robes bluffing in the wind. They were spread in a step formation, each row stood on magically elevated ground higher than the one in front, forming a wall. Behind them all was the hospital building itself, rigid and aloof, their last refuge.

Silvia was standing among the top row, higher than everyone else. It put her into a much more vulnerable position, but it was necessary as she was the only one here capable of producing a shield that would cover them all while they fired spells behind it.

When the outer shield was breached, the attackers would be stalled by the new shield. This would buy them time to go into a counter offensive, either by pushing the enemy line out of the outer shield, or totally eradicating the first wave of attack. Silvia, mean while, would repair the Shields in preparation for new attacks. She had previously drowned herself with energy potion to keep her strengths up.

Theoretically this was how everything should work until they were driven into the building, in which case the reserve force would cast masses of explosion curse against anyone that approached the gate.

In reality, however, the Death Eaters seemed much smarter and unexpectedly stronger. It had been twenty minutes since the magical mist appeared, and all it did was to boil against the Outer Shield, tickling it rather than trying to dissolve it. It was as if the mist was merely to cover their sight, make them blind.

As the minutes slipped by and still the attack did not come, the less experienced Aurors began to fidget in the position restlessly. Tonks, although young, wasn't one of them. After all, she was trained by Alaster Moody, the Myth of modern Auror history. She knew enough to not loose her cool in this sort of situation. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on the mist.

But still the attack did not come.

It's been an hour now. The defenders of St. Mungo are waited, blind to whatever lay outside the shield.

Then everything grew silent.

It had been quiet before, but now it was unnatural silence, as if the world quenched its breath. Tonks felt her sense of unease settling into fear.

The mist began to clear. It diluted, growing paler and paler until amidst the grey tendrils of smoke, a giant, shadowy form was visible. The shadow had a serpentine neck, oversized torso and large, bat-like wings. At that moment color drain from her face.

The Death Eaters brought a dragon.

And it was a big one too.

The dragon was at least three times the size of an ordinary Hungarian Horntail. It remained a foreboding shadow. Gradually the mist disappeared, ant its terrible glory was revealed.

The dragon was milky white, had rippling fangs, a mass of tangling horns and impenetrable hide. When it opened its mouth, instead of fire, frost came busting out. Where the dragon breath touched, the Shield froze, now it resembling an icy eggshell.

The dragon studied the ice shield in front of it, and then with an almost comical look, reached out its front paw.

CRACK.

Their strongest defense was gone. Shattered. Vanished. And the battle hadn't even begun.

Someone behind Tonk's laughed. She felt like laughing too. Weeks of defense gone in the blink of an eye. With that beast there, none of their plans worked. They were all going to die, and no one, not even Dumbledore if he was here, could do anything about it.

A lot of them were laughing now, others crying. It was a pathetic demonstration of desperation. People lost the will to fight now, and this time Tonks couldn't say she wasn't one of them.

But Silvia wasn't laughing. Something was burning within her, and the others felt it too. The whites of her eyes were stained black. Power radiated from her, spiraling upwards like a tornado. Then, to everyone's astonishment, she launched herself into the air. Her robes were ripped to pieces instantly, burned to ash as she transformed. Wings sprouted from her back first, black, scaly, leathery wings. Her neck stretched, elongated. Her mouth opened up into a snout. Flecks of saliva dripped down from her fanged lower jaw, and where they touched, the ground fizzed. Her torso changed into the powerful body of a dragon, covered by glistening scales darker than midnight.

The Silvia-Dragon flipped her wings several times as if adjusting to her senses, and then she orientated herself towards the white dragon, and charged.

The Aurors were watching in silence. This was certainly a sudden change of event that nobody expected. Even the white dragon seemed surprised as it studied its new adversary. There was a morbid cheer as the Aurors watched the gigantic white dragon launching itself into the air with a powerful beat of its wings, slashing its powerful paw towards the small, black one.

As the dragons soared in the air, Death Eaters flooded into the crack in Silvia's shield. With renewed vigor, the Aurors turned to their battle.

The first wave of Death Eaters was chopped down like wheat as almost sixty cutting curses ripped into them. The floor instantly became a soup of human blood and body parts. The Aurors were at an advantage, as Death Eaters were still unable to break down Silvia's shield completely and rush in.

But then the second wave came.

Giants, armed with ballista-size crossbows.

Most Aurors reacted in time, summoning heavy, medieval style shields in front of them. The dozen that didn't were killed instantly, pinned to the ground, blood gurgling up their throat.

Auror wands screeched. Curses of a myriad of colours cut into the giants. One giant was down, its eye pierced by a spear head. The rest barely slowed. The Aurors shouted their spells again and again, and still the Giants came at them, their battle cry reverberating against valley walls. The sight of carnage filled them with a bloodthirsty euphoria.

_Where the hell did Voldemort find so many giants? _Tonks thought to herself as she, together with the eleven Aurors under her command, summoned huge blocks of rock to intercept the giants' progress towards their line. Giants were almost immune to spells, but physical attack worked very well on them.

They also had a slight advantage – the valley was narrow. The Giants were too big, and with a whole herd of them squashed across the Valley floor, the Death Eaters were blocked from the battle, outside the valley mouth where the Shield kept them at bay. Silvia's shield was incredibly strong. The constant volley of spells outside could only chip it away, bit by bit. It was only because of the shield that the Aurors weren't overwhelmed.

Yet some Death Eater rushed in, wands raised, their spells forming an intertwining net of blazing red fire, reducing everything in their way to ashes. At the front was Bellatrix Lestrange, her lips twisted into a sadistic grin.

With a distinct watery crunch, the giants crashed into the Auror line, their maces crashing skulls and limps into messy bits. Most of Aurors rolled aside, others reduced to a twitching mass of broken limbs. The line wavered, and fell back. Without Silvia raising a Shield, the Aurors were exposed, and the two dozens of Aurors at the front line soon became the subject to a bloody massacre.

Tonks had a broken arm. She thanked Moody silently for his old dragon-hide body amour. The body pieces made her more clumsy than usual, but it was only because of them that her arm survived. Kingsley did a quick bone-mending spell on her arm and then both rushed back to battle.

The sixty Aurors stationed outside the hospital buildings were all engaged in battle now. There were no more formations, nor more tactics. Against the pure brutal power of the giants, they were back to the Middle Age when wizards still fought with sword and staffs. Tonks had transformed her wand into a spear. She was at a relative advantage as Silvia had taught her some basic wandless magic. She was able to at least perform a weak Shield Charm that protected her from weaker spells while she plunged her spearhead deep into the soft spot under a Giant's armpit. The massive humanoid screamed in pain, fluttered its arms at her as if she was a bug it wanted to crush. At that moment Tonks saw her chance. She changed her spear back to her wand, and with a powerful Explosion charm, blew an arm sized hole in its eye.

Tonks was covered by blood and mud. The battle field around her had become a hellish scene of blood and dust. Spells whooshed around her, arrows soured past her head. The Aurors were fighting in desperation now. They've long past the stage of seeking survival, and now all they wanted was to go down in glory. Kingsley gave the command to retreat. The remaining thirty of so Aurors backed pace by pace towards the hospital building. Their first defense line was lost. Now they must make their stand right outside the hospital.

The reserve force rushed out, while Tonks and her thirty companions raced in. They might get twenty minutes of rest and healing time before the Death Eaters raced into the building. Tonks sighed as she undressed her left arm looking for the crudely mended wound. Whatever hope she had about her survival shattered completely. They were outnumbered and overpowered. The battle had become a fucking massacre.

While the battle raged below, Silvia and the Quicksilver were having their mind war above, and it was a completely different situation.

Quicksilver dragons were famous for their telepathic power and their Frost Breath. The bigger the dragon, usually, the stronger his mind attack was. This one in front of her right now was _huge,_ and quite obviously, it wanted her dead.

Silvia's animagus form was an Arctic Blackfin, a rare breed that lived in extreme cold, usually spending ninety percent of their life in hibernation. They were small compared with other dragons, and their fire could melt almost everything, even diamonds. Silvia kept her Animagus form secret all her life, as magical animagus forms are extremely rare, and she didn't want to be pestered because of it. Now, however, she had just revealed herself to the entire Ministry law-enforcing force. If she survived this day, she would be in deep shit.

The two dragons circled each other. The Quicksilver's mind was locked onto hers as it tried to blast her mental defenses open. Silvia's mental shield held. The Quicksilver may be one of the most terrible creatures on earth, but she herself was an equally fearsome predator with a human mind skilled in Mind Magic – an even deadlier combination.

After trying to blast open her mind with no avail, the Quicksilver gave up this approach. It spread its wings wide and spiraled upwards at a breathtaking speed, smashing straight through her dome shaped shield that protected the hospital from the air. Silvia followed in pursuit. The Quicksilver turned, crushing into her with a deafening roar, its jaws opened wide, snapping at her neck. Silvia, being the smaller one, was much less cumbersome. She twisted away fluidly like a fish, and slashed her spiked tail at the Quicksilver, tearing across its face and left a deep scratch that run all the way from its eye down its muzzle, bleeding heavily. The while beast was dazzled for a moment, taking her chance, Silvia diverted her attention for a minute. She concentrated slightly, and the Shield below healed itself.

The Quicksilver roared, its horrid voice booming in the empty sky. The screamed seemed more out of pleasure than pain. Recovering almost instantly, the dragon plunged towards Silvia again. This time bluish grey mist exploded from its mouth like a blast of wind. The air around it froze instantly, all moisture condensed into hail. Silvia didn't have time to run. Acting out of instinct, she let out a blast of black flame. The dragon breathes met in mid air, white fire burning against a black one, each seeking to consume the others.

Soon it became a stagnant match of power and endurance. The two dragons hovered in mid air, gazing intently at each other, neither showing signs of weakness. For Silvia, she was suddenly thankful that she had forced down all those bottles of Strength potion. She was no where near tired yet, and the Quicksilver was bleeding rather badly. Sooner or later, it would give way.

Tonks was up and fighting again. Kingsley was a skilled wizard. He fixed her arm flawlessly and after an overdose of Strength potion, she was back standing, fresher than new. Strength potions were illegal for distribution. Usually even Aurors were forbidden to take it. The potion was too dangerous, for while it increased strength, stamina and rate of healing geometrically, the metabolism of the body was also quickened. Every hour under the potion was a year of normal life. Tonks knew this very clearly, but when fighting against giants, the flimsy state of man simply wasn't enough. They needed something more.

The Death Eaters weren't the problem. Dumbledore's protection charms saw to that. Any one with the Dark Mark became badly burnt when they approached the building too much. Bellatrix and her elite force withdrew from the battle sometimes ago. The rest were freshmen, nowhere close to the Aurors in might and less in experience. In any case, there weren't that many of them in the first place. It was the giants that mattered. Nothing seemed to work against those creatures. They learned fast, now protecting their eyes closely. All the Aurors could do was to slow them, not stop them. None of them had any strength left to perform the Avada Kedavra, which seemed to be the only magic that worked.

The sun was setting. Dark red clouds rolled on the horizon, stained red by the bloodshed. Wind swept across the valley floor, picking up dust and the scent of blood. Everything appeared morosely poetic under the dusty, glowing sky.

Tonks had contacted Dumbledore for help. The Hospital building must not be lost. If it fell into Death Eater hands, they could use the floo link and the Gateways to gain access to anywhere important in London.

But help wasn't coming. Dumbledore gave her a load of bullshit. Something about the very fact that none of Voldemort's Inner Circle was present was significant – the Dark Lord was waiting for his chance to attack else where, and as soon as Dumbledore showed up, he might seal this place and put Hogwarts under siege.

To defend against an illusory threat, therefore, he had to fight this battle until the last drop of Auror's blood.

They were on their own now. Eighty weary Aurors against forty giants and a dragon. Thinking of the dragon, Tonks raised her head to the sky. The dragons were little more than two distant stationary dots. She sincerely prayed for Silvia's victory. If the white dragon, one of those legendary Quicksilvers, apparently, joined the battle, then they would truly be doomed.

The Giants' rush tactic came anew, their maddened shrieks filling the entire valley, their booted foot crushing masses of bodies beneath them with brisk, sickening crunches. Auror wands whooshed, sending out spells that only managed to give them a skin burn. The attacking wave of Giants barely wavered before plunging into the Auror lines. Again, the Aurors summoned spiked metallic shields to push them back, matching brutal prowess with magic. A Giant hung impaled on a spike. The rest were forced back.

But still the Giants came.

Another Giant fell to the floor with a thud. Kingsley managed to trick it into stepping on a trapdoor on the ground. Immediately, flame shot up, roasting it alive.

That gave Tonks an idea: they were witches and wizards after all! What they could do was only limited by power and imagination. Power wasn't important for what she had in mind, so it was time to be creative.

_Smoke, _she thought. _I need smoke. _

She fought her way to Kingsley, who along with several others were trying to subdue another giant with Stunners after stunners. It wasn't working. Whatever Voldemort did to these giants, it made the incredibly resistant to standard Auror spells.

"Hey Tonks, don't just stand there." He grunted, jumping aside as the Giant tossed his empty crossbow at him. "We could use a little help here."

Tonks shot an arrow from her wand at the Giant. It embedded itself into the its leg, but was immediately swatted away like a mosquito.

"I got a plan." She panted. The Giant let out an enraged scream and made a grab for her head. She conveniently tripped at that moment, the scaly hands missing her by inches.

"What plan?" Kingsley gave her a quick sidelong glance. Another Giant joined this little brawl, and then another. Now they were seven versus three.

"Smoke, use smoke - " Tonks tripped again, and this time a spiked mace whooshed past her head. " – use smoke to confuse them. We might be able to do something then."

Kingsley nodded. He cast an Illusion Spell. A Giant swung his mace at the mirror image; the mace hit only thin air, and then crashed into another smaller Giant, right on the head. It went down like a collapsed tree.

"Where are you gonna get smoke anyway?" Kingsley shouted over the bellowing giants.

"We can burn furniture in the Hospital. A lot of them are made from Muggle plastic. Those things burn rather well," Tonks yelled back.

Kingsley snuck behind the body a dead giant, leaning on it to catch his breath. He frowned a little, and then pointed his want at the Hospital building.

"Conflo!" He shouted. Dumbledore taught them that rather powerful explosion spell, finally they could put it to use.

The other Aurors saw what he was doing and followed suit. That was the Auror style – follow orders first, ask questions later. Soon the entire outer wall was blasted away. The building stood dissected, spilling out all its interiors.

"ACCIO!" Kingsley shouted. Beds, tables, curtains, bedcovers, toilet seats … everything that can be moved were zooming towards him. He made a gesture for the others to do the same.

The Giants looked at scene dumbly. Tonks suddenly felt very thankful to God for making the Giants so stupid. They could have rushed at them while everyone were distracted. But no, the Giants where more distracted than they were.

Soon a mountain of furniture stood between the Aurors and the Giants. The Hospital was totally stripped. Tonks preyed silently for her plan to work, and then she pointed her wand at the nearest piece of wood.

"Incendio!"

Flames shot up, a meter high. The other Aurors did the same. Soon, the entire pile was blazing like hell. Tonks smiled in relief. She cast the Bubble Head charm on herself.

The plastic caught fire. Rolling black smoke drifted towards the sky. The entire area was saturated by a stinging, pungent smell. The smoke couldn't get out, it was contained within Silvia's dome shaped Shield as if in a fish tank. Hundreds of flammable furniture poured toxic smoke into the air, saturating it.

The smoke also had a bonus effect that Tonks didn't foresee. The Giants were clutching their throat, choking. Some were rolling of the floor struggling for breath.

Now was the perfect opportunity. Tonks sprang into action. She transformed her wand into the spear again and stabbed at the closest Giant. It only swatted at her helplessly, coughing. Other surviving Aurors were doing the same, hacking and hewing at the rolling bodies on the floor, until the soil turned red, soaked by blood.

It was clear that the Giants were losing. The battle again turned to a slaughter, this time Aurors hacked them down one by one, furious for revenge. Tonks felt sick watching the bloodshed, but she knew she couldn't afford to show remorse at this moment, for these creatures will spare her none.

The fight was not going well for Silvia. She underestimated the Quicksilver. For an hour they hovered, pouring flames against each other. The air around them was glowing pink prettily with the sheer amount of magical power saturated in it, the soft colour concealing the murderous aura within. She could see that Quicksilver was weakening. It could barely keep its eye open. Blood continued to ooze out of the wound sluggishly, only to evaporate under the heat Silvia's black flame was creating. Parts of the Quicksilver's snowy hide were bronzed by the hellish Blackfin fire, yet the dragon showed no signs of quitting.

It was a battle of wills. It was getting harder and harder for Silvia to keep the flame steady – the fire drained her magical reserve, zipping it out slowly but continually. She had to so something quickly, or she might die.

An idea struck her. It was an act of desperation almost to the point of stupidity. She didn't think twice on it.

Silvia changed. The moment before the Quicksilver's frosty breath hit her, she raised a BloodShield. She had saw Harry do it often enough to pick it up. Blood burst force from various wounds and formed a reddish semi-sphere that warded off the Dragon's breath. Silvia fell from the sky for several feet, and then she changed again.

The BloodShield suddenly disappeared. The Quicksilver's breath hit empty air. Suddenly the Blackfin reappeared below it out of nowhere, and plunged its spiked tail deep into Quicksilver's stomach.

The Quicksilver screamed again, the air around it turning into frost. It thrashed and twisted, pulling away. Then wound was deep. It wasn't enough to kill it, but it was in no form to fight now. With a last ferocious glare, it left, soaring in the wind unsteadily, splattering drops of blood like rain.

Silvia flapped her wings, and then she dived towards the ground. From above, the Hospital building appeared to be trapped inside a humongous fish tank filled with black smoke. Wisps of it were leaking out from an opening at the base. Fearing the worst, she smashed through her own shield, leaving a chasm behind where smoke rushed out.

The ashes were choking her. There was something about the smell that gave her a headache even as a dragon. It made her dizzy. She landed unsteadily with a muffled boom, and then immediately transformed to perform a Bubblehead charm. Silvia sincerely hoped that there were no more Giants. Death Eaters she could handle, but she had almost no strength left. Already, the effort of walking was making her faint with dizziness. Her leg shook slightly as she took a hesitant step. She raised a hand and cancelled her Shield.

Immediately the smoke began to clear. Like a mass of wriggly worm it rose into the sky, drowning out the dying sunlight.

What she saw then totally shocked her. There were about forty Aurors left alive, every one of them standing open mouthed, staring at the scene of carnage before them. Mutilated carcasses of Giants and Death Eaters littered the ground, their blood mingled, and their body parts dumped unceremoniously in small piles.

Tonks noticed Silvia. She squeaked, rushed towards her and threw her arms over her friend. Silvia couldn't respond. They had won, but it was utter butchery. Something stirred within her. Maybe it was because she stayed in her dragon form for too long, the bloodshed made her stomach grumble. She was starving. Tonks was saying something, she couldn't hear. Dizziness washed over her.

They've won the battle, Silvia registered numbly. She suddenly understood why so many giants were sent to attack St. Mungos instead of Death Eaters. Voldemort was trying to wear down Auror forces. Magical creatures were expendable assets to the Dark Lord, and he had almost unlimited supply of it. Now half of the ministry defense force was exhausted, if Voldemort invaded Hogwarts tomorrow, they would be in no condition to fight. It was a smart move for the Dark Lord, and they fell for it.

In winning this battle, they've risked the war.

**A/N:**

Late, I know. Sorry about that. Now that holidays have started, I'll update more frequently.

P.S. I have no idea what happened to the paragraphs and scene breaks.


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